


We're all monkeys in the end

by betsib, sandorizu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betsib/pseuds/betsib, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandorizu/pseuds/sandorizu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been five years since the end of the war when Harry's scar starts hurting again. Circumstances have him looking for a Draco Malfoy who's been missing since an attack on Malfoy Manor. The search leads him to San Francisco, where he's in for a surprise.</p>
<p>Crossover with Rise of the Planet of the Apes in the beginning of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dodge

_Complete darkness everywhere, except for occasional green lights. He could hear screams, painful screams. The green lights grew more frequent as time passed, as did the screams. He wasn’t sure how much time really passed, nor where he was. Then suddenly an explosion of green light happened right next to him, barely at_ _an arms length away. The scream that followed was agonizing._  
  
Harry Potter slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, apparently his glasses had fallen off his face as he slept. He yawned and began to search for them.  
As he did so, the old woman in the seat opposite his looked up from her newspaper.  
  
“If you’re looking for your glasses, they’re under under your seat”, she said, sounding vaguely amused.  
  
“Thanks”, said Harry, bending down to reach for them. They weren’t broken, but rather dusty. Harry supposed he would have to use a cleaning spell on them later.  
The old woman was still looking at him.  
  
“Did you have a nightmare?”, she asked. “You were making noises.”  
  
Harry blushed slightly. Falling asleep on a train, in front of strangers? His auror trainer would have thrown a fit. Not that it mattered anymore, he’d left all that behind.  
  
“Yes, I was being chased by my old math teachers”, Harry lied. “Terribly frightening.”  
The old woman laughed and returned to her newspaper.  
  
Harry looked out of the window, watching but not really seeing the muggle settlements they passed by. How long had it been since he had last been on a train? The Hogwarts express after his sixth year, after Dumbledore had died and everything had seemed impossible? Harry closed his eyes. That was six years and a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then, so much had changed, himself included. Yet thinking back on his sixth year gave him a strange feeling of déjà vu. He had spent that entire year trying to figure out what Draco Malfoy was up to, and now here he was, six years later, doing the same thing.  
  
 _Except this time I’m not sure what to expect._  
  
The Malfoys had escaped prosecution after Voldemort’s defeat, partly because of Harry’s testimony that Narcissa Malfoy saved his life and that Draco Malfoy’s actions had been crucial for the outcome, but also because of the large amount of money they had donated to rebuild the wizarding community after the war. Harry had been satisfied with this. Others weren’t.  
  
Not long after Harry’s final defeat of Voldemort, things had started happening. There were rumours about violent groups targeting anyone who had worked for or sympathized with Voldemort. These groups, sometimes ironically calling themselves “the Mudbloods”, thought every single one of Voldemort’s supporters, even if they had been forced to work for him or redeemed themselves later, should be severely punished. These rumours turned out to be true.The first attacks had been small, almost pathetic, and Harry had been too busy training to become an Auror to pay any attention to them. Then came the attack against Malfoy Manor.  
  
No one was entirely sure how it could have happened. The Manor was well protected and the Malfoys were notoriously distrusting, but somehow the Mudbloods had managed to get in. A distress spell had been received by the Ministry around midnight, but by the time the Aurors arrived it had been over. The Manor was burning, and the body of Lucius Malfoy was retrieved from the ashes. Narcissa had been found outside on the grounds, sitting as still as a statue. At first it had been believed she had lost her mind, but it was worse than that. The Mudbloods had brought dementors with them, and Narcissa Malfoy had lost her soul. She died in S:t Mungos a few weeks later. Draco Malfoy was never found.  
  
 _Until now,_ Harry thought silently.  
  
Harry had been involved in an attempt to find Draco Malfoy as soon as he obtained his Auror license. They’d managed to trace Malfoy to Dublin, where he’d apparently taken a Muggle Aircraft to San Francisco. There the trace had vanished completely. Still, Harry would have wanted to continue his investigation, but the Ministry felt they didn’t have the resources to support such an endeavour and Ron had convinced him to drop it.  
  
The Ministry apparently didn’t have the resources to stop any further attacks by the Mudbloods, either. Nor to investigate the attacks afterwards. Harry had tried, he really had. He had worked overtime for countless hours trying to figure out a way to put an end to the situation. But the other Aurors always arrived too late. They always got notified too late, even when distress spells had reached the ministry in time.  
  
And that had been the real problem. Many people sympathised with the Mudbloods and felt the people who were attacked “had it coming”. Others didn’t care much either way. Harry could sort of understand  them, he had never liked the Malfoys or any of the others, but the Ministry’s apathy to the situation made him furious. To him the Mudbloods weren’t all that different from the Death Eaters themselves.  
  
The whole situation reminded him of the war, except then he had actually been able to do something worthwhile. As an Auror all he was allowed to do was talk to the victims, provided they could still converse. The attack on Malfoy Manor had been the biggest and most severe of them all. Not many people had died or received serious injury in attacks after that, which was probably partly why nobody took the Mudbloods seriously. Still, they were dangerous.  
  
But to Harry they weren’t the only threat present. For a while now his scar had been hurting again. Or well, not specifically hurting, but there was this prickling pain at times, just strong enough for it to be uncomfortable and make him worry. His scar had always been directly connected to Voldemort, and it hurting again could only mean one thing.  
  
He’d tried to bring it up with the ministry but they wouldn’t listen. They’d blamed it on everything from normal headaches to nightmares. After all, Harry had suffered from nightmares for so many years, everyone knew that. It wouldn’t be strange at all. And well, they were partly right. He did have nightmares, and they weren’t about old math teachers.  
  
Hermione and Ron believed him, he knew that. But that hadn’t been enough to stop him from having enough and quitting his job as an Auror. When he brought up the subject of Malfoy again, after realising that his Dark Mark should have reacted to Voldemort’s activities, he’d been thoroughly stumped by the response. If he didn’t start doing as he was told and concentrating on the rebuilding of their world he would have to be taken off field-duty, they’d said. He’d responded by telling them they wouldn’t have to and packed his boxes.  
  
Ron hadn’t talked to him for quite a while after that. He’d been mad that Harry was throwing away their mutual career for something as petty as not being allowed to look for that Malfoy-git. It had been a lot more than that but Ron was simple minded at times. And just like always he’d come around eventually and actually been the one hinting Harry in the right direction.  
  
“What did you do with Malfoy’s wand after the battle?”, he’d asked. Before understanding the significance he explained that he still had it somewhere. Then it dawned on him. Hermione had recently been involved in some spell-development business, and she’d been quite enthralled by a new series of spells to investigate wands with. For example, there had been a spell that could be used for tracking the--  
  
\-- _original owner of a wand, wherever he was._  
  
Two years had passed since the trail had told Harry that Malfoy had travelled across the Atlantic Ocean and America to the city of San Francisco. It must have been a good choice, as that was the exact city the tracking spell had now led him to.  
  
He knew there was a wizarding quarter in the city, and he was planning on taking a stroll there at some point, but he’d passed the train stop closest to the main entrance ages ago and the surroundings outside of the window could not be described as anything other than _muggle_. What was _Draco Malfoy_ doing in these parts of town?  
  
Well, he was about to find out, wasn’t he? The lit-up sign in the carriage combined with his travel guide informed him that he was only one stop away from his destination now. Soon he’d find out if the new spell had worked the way it was supposed to.  
  
He swallowed and ignored the tiny flicker of nervousness in his stomach as a voice announced the name of the stop they were arriving at. This was his - _Malfoy’s-_ stop. This is it, he thought and stepped out as the doors opened.  
  
It seemed like an industrial area. The buildings were large, square and utterly boring. The only even remotely interesting looking building had a dome-shaped glass roof on top. The  place was surrounded by a wire fence. Harry though it looked like some sort of prison.  
  
 _Don’t tell me Malfoy’s got himself locked up after all_ , Harry thought, both amused and a bit worried at the same time. It would certainly complicate things if Malfoy was in prison, but on the other hand he wouldn’t be able to run away. Harry doubted that was the case though, most likely the building was the Americans’ idea of a discrete entrance to the wizarding world.  
  
Harry walked closer to the building, a little cautious in case there were wards or protection spells anywhere. Nothing seemed to happen, though, and Harry reached the fence and read the sign beside the entrance.  
  
 _San Bruno Primate Shelter_  
  
Harry bursted into laughter. Maybe the Americans were smarter than he had given them credit for. There was no way anyone would suspect a magic entrance in a shelter for _monkeys_. Harry’s earlier thought of Malfoy being locked up in here suddenly seemed a lot funnier.  
  
Still snickering to himself, Harry went through the open entrance in the fence and walked up to the building and knocked on the door. Nobody answered, but he thought he could hear noises coming from inside. He found the door wasn’t locked, so he let himself inside.  
  
“Hello?”, he asked the empty room, which seemed to be some kind of office. A lot of documents seemed to be piled up and stashed away in every possible place, giving him the impression of organised chaos. Harry found himself increasingly impressed with the  
effort given by the American wizards to keep this place looking muggle.  
  
The indistinguishable sounds became louder as he moved further into the building.  
“... exercise, you lazy baboons!”  
  
Harry blinked. That was definitely Malfoy’s voice, but something seemed...off. Harry shook his head and went through the door.  
  
And stopped, shocked by the sight in front of him. It seemed to be an animal cage, surrounded by glass so you could look at them without danger, like in a zoo. From a cave-like entrance a hoard of monkeys swarmed into the cage, screaming at each other.  
  
Harry stood still for a moment, just watching them. If this actually was a shelter for monkeys, then what the hell was Malfoy doing here?  
  
At this very moment Malfoy seemed to be yelling on about lazy baboons and stupid monkeys, and Harry followed his voice downstairs, where he was greeted by yet another pair of doors, these ones slightly ajar.  
  
“You don’t know who’s boss here? Get your lazy monkey ass out there or I’ll show you!”  
  
Harry froze outside the door, suddenly realising why Malfoy’s voice had sounded a bit wrong before. It was the accent.  
  
 _Sweet Merlin, Malfoy’s gone American._  
  
Harry pushed the door open, mentally trying to prepare himself for whatever was to come. However, even if he had hours to prepare he still would not have expected this.  
  
Malfoy was standing in front of a small cage, apparently trying to threaten the poor animal using some kind of metallic wand. Not a very surprising situation in itself. But Malfoy’s appearance..  
  
Harry’s mind refused to accept that Malfoy’s voice, even with an American accent, could somehow belong to the sunburned, plaid-dressed young man with the dirty jeans.  
  
 _And Merlin’s beard, what has he done to his hair?!_  
  
***  
  
Dodge Landon was having a bad day. As usual. But there was definitely something especially bad about today. Maybe it was those fucking bitches he’d tried to impress last night, or his dad being even more of an ass than usual. Or maybe it was just these fucking monkeys that were being worse than ever.  
  
Especially that fucking Caesar-fuck. What the hell was wrong with that stupid monkey anyway? His fucking owner’s come there to pick up the fucker and it’d just stayed in it’s fucking cage. And it still was, not listening to a single fucking word he was saying. Stupid fucking monkey. He’d fucking show ‘im who’s boss.  
  
“You don’t know who’s boss here? Get your lazy monkey ass out there or I’ll show you!”  
  
The fucking monkey was apparently as impressed by him as the girls had been. It seemed like it didn’t fucking hear him at all. However, it seemed interested in something behind him. Dodge turned around and saw a man wearing the geekiest glasses he’d ever seen stand in the doorway, looking utterly shocked.  
  
 _Oh hell no!,_ Dodge thought furiously. _Not another of those fucking monkey-loving animal activists!_  
  
Like his day hadn’t been bad enough already. What the hell was Rodney doing, letting someone like that in without warning him? Where the hell _was_ Rodney anyway?  
  
“What the hell d’ you want?”, Dodge snarled.  
  
The man with the stupid glassed blinked and seemed to regain his composure. The shocked expression was replaced with a serious and quite unfriendly one.  
  
“Malfoy, what do you think you are doing, hiding in a monkey shelter?”, the man said. “We’ve got a serious crisis on our hands. I think Voldemort might be back!”  
  
Dodge blinked. Ok, so maybe this wasn’t an animal activist. A madman seemed more likely.  
  
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”, he exclaimed, tightening his grip on the taser.  
  
“My scar hurts, I’m having weird dreams, like I had during the war. I need to check your mark. Just let me get my wand out...”, the madman continued his senseless ramblings and started to reach inside his clothes.  
  
“Whoa!”, Dodge said and pointed the taser towards the madman while slowly backing away. “You keep your hands where I can see them man. And I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, but you’ve clearly got the wrong guy. My name is Dodge Landon, not fucking Malfoy!”  
  
The man took a step forward and took out a stick from his pocket. Caesar started chatting excitedly in his cage. God, Dodge hated that monkey.  
  
“Quit playing games, Malfoy. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you won’t help me. This is serious, don’t you get it. Voldemort may be back!”  
  
“I don’t know who this Voldy-mort is and I don’t give a fuck whether he’s back or doing the macarena on the moon! You just stay away from me!”  
  
The madman stopped dead in his tracks, the expression of shock returning to his face.  
  
“Malfoy...”, he started.  
  
“MY NAME IS DODGE!”, Dodge screamed, daring to take a step forward, the taser still pointed at the man.  
  
“But...Malfoy...”  
  
“GET OUT OF HERE, NOW! OR I’M CALLING THE COPS!”  
  
To Dodge’s surprise and tremendous relief, the man actually turned around and walked out the door without another word, seemingly too shocked to speak. Dodge watched the door for at least a minute after he left, just to make sure he wasn’t coming back. Then he turned towards Caesar’s cage with a dangerous smile.  
  
“You see that? Maybe you too should be gettin’ moving!”  
  
Caesar gave him a long look, and then started climbing up to join the other monkeys. Dodge supposed he should feel pleased with himself. Mostly, though, he just felt tired.  
  
***  
  
As the door closed behind him Harry stopped in his tracks. This was very confusing, to say the least. He glanced in through a window but couldn’t see anything so instead his feet slowly led him back from where he’d come.  
  
What exactly had just happened? That man had definitely been Draco Malfoy, there was no doubt as Harry would recognise that drawl and that glare anywhere. Even through the heavy American accent. And he’d happened to be exactly where Malfoy’s wand had led Harry. Malfoy had to be pretending.  
  
Maybe he was still afraid? Maybe he was trying to stay hidden by pretending not to recognise Harry and insisting on being named whatever it was he’d called himself? It’d started with a D right? Don? Doug? Most definitely a cover-up name. It had to be that way.  
  
 _But he really did look like he didn’t recognise me at all...and he said Voldemort’s name!_  
  
Not wanting to risk having any muggle police officers get involved he decided to just head back to his hotel room. Maybe think it all over again before coming back and trying again tomorrow. Thinking of what he’d say to Malfoy to convince him talking to Harry wouldn’t compromise his safety from those Mudbloods. Maybe he’d give Hermione a call too, that would be a good idea.  
  
Half an hour later he stepped into his room at the hotel, still feeling as confused as he had been when he left the monkey shelter. He unceremoniously tossed his jacket on the floor and dropped down on the bed. Not that he had expected Malfoy to be all friendly and happily help him, but he had at least expected...  
  
Well, he had expected Malfoy, the aristocratic prat he had known. Not this Dod (Dud? Duog? Harry mentally decided to go with Dod for now. It seemed appropriate.).  
  
Realising he wouldn’t be able to rest anyway, he went out to the phone booth in the hallway to call Hermione. Harry quietly wished he had listened to her earlier about getting a muggle mobile phone, or stay in a wizarding hotel equipped with a international floo network. He hadn’t expected anything like this to happen, though.  
  
“Hermione Granger speaking.”  
  
She sounded tired. Harry cursed himself mentally for forgetting about the time difference between San Francisco and England. Not that he actually had a clue what time it was. And he probably would have called her anyway.  
  
“Hi, Hermione. It’s me. Sorry if I woke you up.”  
  
“It’s alright, Harry. I wasn’t asleep yet. Did you find Malfoy?”  
  
Harry closed his eyes, trying to figure out how to explain what had happened.  
  
“Yes, I did.”, he said. “But...”  
  
“What is it, Harry? Did you two have a fight again?”, she asked, sounding concerned.  
  
“No. I mean yes. But, Hermione, it was as if he didn’t even recognise me. And the way he looked....”  
  
Harry trailed off searching for the words to describe what Malfoy had looked like. He didn’t think the word “American” said enough.  
  
“Was he hurt? Did you find him in a hospital or something?”  
  
“No, he is fine. I found him in a monkey shelter.”, Harry answered.  
  
There was a moment of complete silence, then Harry could hear the sound of Hermione’s laughter.  
  
“Oh, Goodness, Harry. Are you saying somebody actually turned him into a...”  
  
“Unfortunately no.”, Harry smiled. ”He was just working there.”  
  
“Malfoy... working in a primate shelter?”, Hermione repeated, sounding confused.  
  
“Just wait until you hear was he was wearing. Or what he’s done to his hair.”  
  
“But you’re sure it was him.”, said Hermione seriously. It wasn’t a question.  
  
“I am, but he acted like he didn’t recognise me. He acted like a muggle, actually. Didn’t even know his own name. Threatened to call the police on me.”  
  
“Are you sure he wasn’t just acting? I mean, this _is_ Malfoy we’re talking about.”  
  
“I thought that too, but... ”, Harry began. Of course it could just be an act. But there was just something not right about it. Hermione waited patiently at the other end of the line.  
  
“Hermione, he said Voldemort’s name. Like it didn’t mean anything to him.”  
  
Harry heard Hermione gasp in surprise.  
  
“Harry, this could be serious. You must try to talk to him again and find out more. If he really isn’t acting...”  
  
“Then I’m in trouble, I know. I will try again tomorrow. In the meantime, could you...?”  
Harry could hear the smile in her voice as she answered.  
  
“I will go to the library tomorrow to look for possible explanations in case he isn’t lying.”  
  
“Thank you. I will let you know how it goes.”  
  
“Don’t let him get away this time, Harry. Good night.”  
  
“Good night.”  
  
Harry walked back to his room, feeling a little better about the whole thing. He would make sure Malfoy talked to him tomorrow, even if he had to stuff him into one of the monkey cages.

 


	2. The Man with the Coffee Mug

_The floor underneath him was cold. He sat leaning against something. He could hear slow footsteps from the other side of the wall. Then suddenly voices. Voices pleading and screaming for someone to let them go. He tried pressing his hands against his ears, to block out the sounds, but it was as if it happened right next to him even though there was nothing but darkness. He shut his eyes, hiding his face between his knees, anything to block out what was happening. But inside his head he could see the green light._

***

The dreams still made Harry feel uncomfortable, but he shrugged it off to head out into the adventure of the day. As he’d told Hermione, he was dead set on going back and trying to talk to Malfoy again. If anything, Malfoy was the only clue he had to why his scar had been hurting and to the dreams, so what else was there to do than try again,

The way to the monkey shelter felt ten times longer today. He went through the things he should say over and over in his head, trying to think of a good way to get Malfoy to open up and stop pretending. Harry had to get him to talk, there were no other alternatives. He would just go back inside, locate Malfoy and ask him to please have a word with him. 

He barely made it in through the door before a voice that did not belong to Malfoy called out to him.

“Can I help you, mister?”

Harry turned around to see a man who looked like he was in his fifties leaning against a door frame, coffee mug in hand. He was looking at Harry like he actually couldn’t care less about what Harry wanted, but Harry took the chance. One last glance to see if Malfoy was around and then he spoke up.

“Actually, you’re in charge here? I’d have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind.”

The look he was given showed exactly how much the man did mind, but he took a sip from his mug and nodded. He turned around and walked into a small office, leaving the door open for Harry to follow him. Harry noticed the name “John Landon” on a small sign on the door as he went through it. 

“It’s about one of your employees.” Harry said, still struggling to remember the name Malfoy had given him.

The man raised an eyebrow as he gestured to the chair in front of the desk. He took a sip from the coffee mug and sat down on the other side.

“Have one of my boys given you any trouble I should know about?” he asked.

Harry blinked.

“Your boys?” he repeated stupidly.

“My sons who work here with me. Rodney and Dodge.”

Dodge. That was it. What kind of name was _Dodge_? Harry frowned. And why did this man call him his son?

“Dodge is the young man with the sandy blond hair and the pointy nose, right?”, Harry asked, just to make sure. The man nodded, apparently rather uninterested with the conversation.

“When did you adopt him?” Harry asked, partly convinced this must be part of the act. Nobody in their right mind would adopt _Malfoy_.

“I get that a lot.”, the man laughed, a little nervously. “I know we don’t look alike, but Dodge is really my son.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. Had Malfoy really obliviated this man into believing he was his son, or was the man just lying to him?

“No, he’s not.” Harry said, trying to study the man’s reactions to his words. “Dodge isn’t even his real name.”

The man coughed in his coffee. He looked at Harry with a furious expression on his face.

“Dodge is definitely my son. How dare you suggest anything else, you fucking brit!”, he said dangerously, but Harry thought he could detect nervousness in his voice. Maybe he _was_ lying.

“That’s funny, because I went to school with him. In Britain.” Harry said. “I knew his _real parents._ ”

“YOU HAVE NO PROOF!” the man screamed.

Harry jumped at the sudden reaction. Ok, that probably answered his question then. Harry was about to answer him that yes, he could get proof, when the door was opened behind him.

“Dad, have you seen the...” Malfoy said, stopping dead when he saw Harry. “Oh, hell no! Not you again!”

“You know this man, son?” the man with the coffee mug asked. His face was still red from his earlier outburst, but he looked nervous as he glanced at Harry.

“Yeah, he came in yesterday going on about wand and dreams and such crap. He’s bat-shit crazy.” Malfoy said, sounding like he meant every word of it.

And what if he did, Harry suddenly thought. What is this wasn’t an act? Did that mean Malfoy actually thought he was Dodge, the son of the man with the coffee mug?

“Is he now?” the man said, smirking. “Well, he has certainly been talking a lot of crazy talk.”

Looking from the man’s smirk to Malfoy’s angry expression, Harry realised trying to convince Malfoy of the truth right now would be fruitless. The only way to get through to him would be with magic, but the man with the coffee mug was a muggle. Doing magic in front of a muggle in a foreign country was frowned upon even in extreme situations, even if he was Harry Potter.

“I guess I should leave.” he said, getting up from the chair. “But you and I will have a long talk next time, Malfoy.”

Harry turned to leave. Malfoy snarled at him.

“You come here again and I’ll call the police, you hear me! And my name is Dodge."

Harry sighed and turned around, looking Malfoy straight in the eyes.

“No, it’s not,” Harry said quietly. “And that man isn’t really your father. You haven’t even known him for more than a couple of years, at most.”

“GET OUT OF HERE, YOU MADMAN!” screamed the man with the coffee mug, spilling coffee all over the floor in the process. Harry gave Malfoy one last look, seeing shocked anger on his face, then he turned around and left. He fully intended to come back later and talk to Malfoy alone. This mess seemed to be way more complicated than he had imagined, and he wasn’t even sure if Voldemort was back or not.

***

Dodge watched the dark haired young man leave, and he still believed he was fucking crazy. But that last thing he said about his dad...

He glanced at the man beside him, who was currently swearing over the coffee he spilled. It was true that he had only known his dad for a few years, but that was because he had lost his memories in that car accident, right?

But how the fuck did the crazy Brit with the glasses know about that?

“The nerve of that guy, coming in here and pulling all that crap.” his dad spat.

“What did he say to you, anyway, dad?” Dodge asked. 

“Asked about you. Said some bullshit about knowing you,” his dad shrugged, then froze. “You don’t know him, right?”

Dodge scowled.

“‘Course not. But it’s not like I remember a fucking lot.”

“I know that. You seem to have forgotten that you’re supposed to feed the apes, as well.” said his dad and returned into his office.

Dodge cursed under his breath. Always changing the subject. And always with the stupid monkeys.

***

Something was up, Harry thought as he once again made his way back to the hotel.  
Things were definitely not like it was supposed to be. Mr Coffee-mug (Landon, was it?) was obviously lying, but Malfoy seemed to really believe him. What had happened to Malfoy to put him there? It seemed like he had no idea about his past and his supposed dad was clearly aware of that. 

Despite the police threats Harry knew he was going back, probably sometime later that evening. He’d just grab some lunch somewhere and go back to the hotel to relax for a while. And think through exactly how he’d explain to a Malfoy who believed his name was Dod-something that he’s actually a British wizard and the only person who can tell Harry if an evil dark wizard has returned.

_And that is going to be so very easy. Oh Merlin, this is way more complicated than I ever thought it could be._

He could always hope that his previous comments had sown a seed of doubt in Malfoy and that he would question his “dad” about it. Not that that coffee drinking twat would tell him anything, he seemed way too fond of lying. But why in hell would he lie to an unknown man that he’s his son? And how come Malfoy didn’t remember anything in the first place?

He’d have to call Hermione again, he thought. But somehow he felt like leaving it until after he’d tried talking to Malfoy alone. It wasn’t like he’d gotten any real information and those phone calls were bloody expensive. 

He spotted a small Chinese restaurant by the train station and decided to go for that. It was past lunch time and the thought of food had made his stomach rumble quite loudly. All this Malfoy-business made him forget eating. 

Almost two hours later he’d enjoyed a nice meal with some sort of chicken and rice, and even had dessert and green tea. The television in the restaurant had been showing a talk show Harry had actually found quite funny and time ended up flying. 

He thanked the nice old lady for the food and left the restaurant. He instantly wished he hadn’t, the weather seemed to have gotten a lot chillier while he’d been inside. Quite strange, he thought as he closed his jacket and started walking towards the station suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

_What’s happening, this feels just like..._

Then he saw them.

_Dementors...! But-- Oh god, Malfoy!_

Ignoring the cold feeling the dementors were spreading inside him and cursing the fact that there were muggles everywhere and a patronus was out of the question he ran all the way back to the monkey shelter. 

Somewhere along the way he pulled out his wand, not at all caring about keeping it hidden anymore. He kept wishing in his head that Malfoy would still be okay, that the dementors hadn’t found him yet.

They seemed to know where to look now and for a fleeting moment he hoped it wasn’t him they’d followed to Malfoy, but he pushed that thought away quickly. That wasn’t even possible.  
There were dementors scattered all along the way to the shelter and as he got closer he could see that quite a few were flying around the shelter itself. Some of them disappeared inside as he was still running.

As soon as he reached the building he burst in through the door, not caring if the old man was there or not. He had to find Malfoy as soon as possible.

“Malfoy! Where are you?”

He shouted his name, while following the ice cold feeling in his guts in through the door to the area he’d first seen Malfoy. And there he was, in the same corridor-like area between the cages that Harry’d first seen him yesterday. The sight was unsettling to say the least.

Three dementors were circling him, barely half a meter above Malfoy who was sitting on the floor, arms around his knees and shaking violently. Harry didn’t lose another moment.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

***

Dodge had no idea what the fuck was happening. The things the madman with the glasses had told him had been gnawing in the back of his mind all day, begging for attention. Dodge had done his best telling them to just fuck off and leave him alone, and went on doing the things he normally would as if nothing was wrong. Just the normal routine.  
As he was refilling the monkeys’ water bowls, he was concentrating so hard on everything being normal that it took him a few minutes to realize just how wrong he was about that 

He looked up quickly, startled by the deafening silence that surrounded him. A cold feeling of dread slowly took a hold of him. Dodge gasped for air, suddenly finding it hard to breath, as the if the despair inside of him was physically pushing his lungs aside. Green lights started dancing before his eyes.  
He couldn't´t remember ever feeling this bad, even in the worst of his nightmares

Then, suddenly, he thought he heard someone yell something and his eyes were filled with a white light. The despair slowly disappeared, leaving him feeling cold and a bit shaky, but otherwise ok.

Until he looked up from his knees and realized the white light was actually a shining white stag prancing around the room. Dodge just stared as it disappeared into thin air.

“Are you ok?”, somebody asked. Dodge turned his head to see the man with the glasses looking down on him with a worried expression on his face.

Looking _down_ on him. It suddenly dawned on Dodge what a feeble position he was sitting in, with his arms around his knees lie a little child. Normally he wouldn’t be caught dead in such a vulnerable state, but right now he didn’t feel inclined to move. What he actually felt like doing was crying.

“Why was there a stag here?”, he asked helplessly, trying to disconnect himself from the situation in order to keep his sanity. The man frowned.

“It was a patronus, to keep the dementors away.”, he said, as if that answered everything.

“Dementors?”, Dodge repeated weakly.

“The cloaked beings that surrounded you of course”, he man said irritatedly. Dodge just stared at him.

“What beings?”, he asked, his voice starting to crack. “I don’t understand!”

“You didn’t see them? How could you not have seen them?”, the man almost yelled, looking shocked. “You are not a muggle!”

Dodge bit his lip, looking down on the floor. He didn’t understand anything the man was saying. He was just hoping, really hoping, for this nightmare to end and for himself to wake up.

***

Harry couldn’t help but stare at Malfoy for a while, utterly shocked by what he had just heard. All wizards could see dementors, and Malfoy was definitely a wizard. He should have been able to see them, memories or not. 

_So why couldn’t he?_

Harry looked at Malfoy again, and made a quick decision. The dementors would probably be back soon, and Harry couldn’t leave Malfoy there.

 

About half an hour later Harry led Malfoy into his hotel room. Getting Malfoy to agree to come with him had been surprisingly easy. Harry thought he would argue, but Malfoy hadn’t really been reacting to anything. He was, in fact, acting rather catatonic. Harry suspected the taxi driver thought Harry had drugged him.

Harry dragged Malfoy down to sit on the bed. Malfoy continued to stare at the floor as Harry searched through his bags for some chocolate. He handed the bar to Malfoy.

“Eat, you’ll feel better.”, he said, smiling a little. Malfoy stared at the chocolate bar for a moment before he did as he was told. Harry sat down beside him.

“Malfoy, look at me.”, Harry demanded. “You really don’t remember anything?”

Malfoy slowly raised his eyes to meet Harry’s. 

“I remember waking up in the middle of a street a couple of years ago having no idea who I was,” he said quietly. Harry felt a tug of sympathy for him.

“Your name is Draco Malfoy. We went to school together in Britain,” Harry began. “It was a school of magic and witchcraft.”

He paused for a moment and looked Malfoy straight in the eyes.

“You’re a wizard, Malfoy,” he said, with a distinctive feeling of déjà vu. Malfoy looked unconvinced.

“Prove it.”, he said. Harry took out his wand again.

“Expecto patronum!”

Malfoy seemed both fascinated and scared when the stag appeared.

“Oh, god, that actually happened, didn’t it?” he breathed. “Some silvery stuff came out of your wand and made a stag.” 

He was quiet for a moment, then shook his head.

“I can’t believe I just said that.”

Harry laughed a little, relieved that Malfoy was feeling better.

“So,” Malfoy continued. “Tell me more about myself.”

 

Harry shut the door behind him as quietly as would so he wouldn’t wake Malfoy up as he went down the hall to call Hermione. Malfoy had ended up falling asleep, being completely exhausted after dealing with these dementors and all the new information. Harry had tried to explain as much as possible, just leaving out some minor unimportant details. 

Like the fact that Harry and Malfoy had always hated each other, and that Malfoy had been on the opposite side in the war. He didn’t want to risk Malfoy becoming hostile against him again, not now when things finally seemed to be turning out right.

“Hermione Granger speaking,” Harry heard Hermione say, immediately followed by a yawn. He had definitely woken her up this time.

“Hi, Hermione. It’s me. Sorry about waking you.”

“It’s alright, Harry. I expected you to,” she answered and Harry could hear the smile in her voice. “Did you talk to Malfoy again?”

“I did. You are not going to believe this...”, Harry said and proceeded to tell her all about the events from the day. Hermione was quiet the entire time. If Harry had been talking to Ron he would have thought the quiet meant Ron had gone back to sleep, but he knew Hermione was listening.

“Harry, this is very serious. You have to bring him here so I can talk to him. I will do some more research, but there is only so much I can do over the phone.”

“Yes, I know, Hermione. I will bring him to back as fast as I can. I will call you later to give you the details.”

“One more thing, Harry. Where is he now?”

“Oh, he was completely exhausted, so I left him sleeping on my bed when I went to call you.”

“Draco Malfoy sleeping on your bed,” Hermione said, sounding very amused. “Never thought that would happen.”

Harry flushed a little, and was thankful Hermione couldn’t see it over the phone.

“Anyway, Harry,” she continued. “I wouldn’t leave him alone. A lot of shocking things have happened to him today, things he may not want to deal with. And he does have a history of running away.”

“That’s true”, Harry agreed thoughtfully. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Bye, Hermione. ”

“Good luck, Harry.”, Hermione said, and they hung up.

Harry walked to his room thinking about what Hermione had said. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that Malfoy may try to run away from him, even after everything that he had told him. It was definitely a possibility, though.

Harry entered his room and looked around, cursing to himself as he realised it wasn’t just a possibility, it was a fact. Malfoy had left the building.

***

A nightmare had haunted Dodge almost instantlyafter he fell asleep, and he woke up just a little while later, feeling completely disoriented. As he got up from what he realized was that Harry’s hotel bed his head was filled with thoughts and questions about all he’d learned.

He was supposedly a wizard, and he was from the UK. He’d apparently somehow been involved in some weird war and now this Harry here needed his help with something related to that. But there seemed to be something wrong with him, Harry’d said. Well, if he’d been living a lie for years there must be.

_I have to talk to dad._

The Harry guy was nowhere in sight, so he took his chance. Leaving without saying anything was just the easier option, and Dodge preferred the easy way out. Confronting his dad about this was going to be hard enough as it was. If he even was his dad. He really didn’t know anymore, it seemed like Harry was telling the truth. He’d shown him magic, and it really existed, why wouldn’t the rest be true too?

His mind kept going through everything he’d learned all the way back to the shelter. He wondered what had happened for him to forget it all. He tried to think of the first things he could remember, to find any hints, but all he could recall was waking up in a street and Rodney asking if he’s okay. Rodney had carried him home and there Dad had explained that he’d had an accident and apparently lost his memory. But that things were okay now, he was home with daddy. 

_Was it all a big lie?_

But his dad - John Landon - was nowhere to be found. He looked into the office and all the surrounding rooms, not finding him anywhere. Slightly frustrated, as he really needed to clear things up, he figured he’d check the monkeys’ areas too. 

His eyes caught sight of that fucking troublemaker monkey outside in the exercise area. How had he gotten out? What the fuck was going on? He was supposed to be locked up in his cage just like all the other stupid monkeys. 

Instantly falling back into the life he was used to, he picked up a taser and headed out into the exercise area. He tried calling for Rodney through his walkie-talkie but there was no response. The fucker was probably asleep somewhere as usual. 

He switched on the taser, liking the feeling of safety the buzzing sound gave him as he closed in on the Caesar-bastard. The feeling was welcome, as Caesar was staring at him angrily in a very unnerving way.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, huh?”

Circling around him, he tried waving towards the entrance to the cages, doing his best to seem threatening. That fucking monkey was dangerous and really had to learn who the boss. A good beating for escaping his cage would be just what was needed. The fucker. 

“Come on. Back into the cage. I’m warning you!”

He moved in closer, taser held out in front of him. Caesar showed his teeth and didn’t back away an inch. This was definitely not good. Where was that fucking Rodney? Caesar moved towards him, teeth bared.

“That’s it! See what you get!”

Dodge reached out and smacked the monkey-fucker with the taser and so the fight was on. He managed to get in a few hits before Caesar got over the initial shock of being electrocuted and started fighting back. In one swift movement he’d caught Dodge’s arm and he couldn’t move an inch due to the brute strength of the fucking monster.

“Take your stinking paws off me you damn dirty ape!”

What happened next must have been the final detail to Dodge’s absolutely insane day. Caesar rose up straighter, staring right into his eyes with obvious anger before opening his mouth and saying “No!”. First magic and now talking apes.

There was no time to get over the shock before he was hit straight in the head and everything went black.


	3. The Cage

“Can’t you go any faster?”

Harry seriously considered getting out of the taxi and apparate, the rules be dammed. He had called for a taxi immediately after Malfoy’s disappearance, but the bloody thing had taken forever to arrive. And now they were stuck in traffic. Harry was starting to freak out.

“I cannot go any faster than the car in front of us.”, said the driver, a fat man with a big mustache that reminded Harry of Vernon Dursley. “Please calm down, _sir_.”

Harry really tried to calm himself down.

 _Maybe everything is ok, maybe he just went to have chat with his so called dad, and there is no dementors anywhere and he is not trying to run away and..._ Harry stopped trying to fool himself and buried his face in his hands. _That stupid, stupid prat!_

“Your girlfriend run off or sometin’?”, asked the driver, not sounding very sympathetic. Harry scowled.

“Just get me there,” he said.

“To the monkey house. Right. Don’t worry, I’m sure the monkeys will still be there when we get there.”

Harry closed his eyes. It wasn’t really the monkeys he worried about. He was quiet for the rest of the trip, trying not to think about anything at all. When they finally arrived at the shelter Harry rushed out, telling the driver to keep the change.

“God bless you, boy”, shouted the driver behind him, suddenly a lot more friendly. “Hope you find your girl!”

Harry briefly wondered just how much extra he had given the man. Then he entered the building.

“Malfoy!”,he shouted. He received no answer, but he could hear strange noises coming from the corridors downstairs. Something must have gotten the monkeys really worked up. He just hoped it wasn’t the dementors again.

The doors to the corridor were locked. Harry took out his wand.

“Alohomora!”

Harry pushed the door open...and froze, shocked by the scene in front of him. There were monkeys everywhere. Everywhere except in the cages. In fact, it seemed like they just locked a man in a cage, but it wasn’t Malfoy. Where the bloody hell was...there! In another cage, just sitting up from a lying position, holding his head. Harry made a move to go to him. 

And stopped immediately as he realised all the monkeys in the room were staring at him. Harry swallowed, fighting the sudden urge to run away. He glanced at Malfoy, who was now looking around, seemingly disoriented. He would probably do something really stupid if Harry left. Harry took a slow step towards the cage.

One of the monkeys in the front row showed its teeth and started moving towards Harry, not really attacking, but definitely not in a friendly manner either. Harry thought fast, and decided taking them on in a fight would be too risky, there were simply too many of them, and they would probably attack all at once if he hurt one on them.

“Incendio!”, he said, aiming not at the monkey but a good meter in front of it. The sudden fire, small and brief as it might have been, made all of the monkeys jump backwards, chattering loudly amongst themselves. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.”, Harry said, trying to sound calm and reassuring as he moved slowly towards the cage where Malfoy sat staring at him. He saw Malfoy open his mouth and gestured for him to be quiet. He wasn’t sure whether the monkeys understood human speech or not, but he seriously doubted whatever Malfoy had been planning to say would have helped. 

Wand in hand and his eyes on the monkeys, Harry made his way to the cage. The monkeys followed every move he made, but didn’t attack. One of them seemed to be nodding. Harry closed the door behind him as he entered the cage. Malfoy stared at him.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Malfoy whispered, sounding panicked. “You’ve locked us in.”

Harry silently put a locking spell on the door and turned to him.

“I’ve locked them out, so they can’t get to us if they decide to attack. I don’t think they like you very much,” Harry said and smirked. “And I’ve locked _you_ in, so you can’t run away again.”

Malfoy leaned back against the wall, scowling.

“Oh, wonderful,” he said.

“You should feel right at home, Malfoy. I always knew you belonged in a monkey cage,” Harry said, the tension from earlier finally leaving him.

“In case you haven’t noticed, you are in here with me,” Malfoy retaliated. ”And you look more comfortable here than I do.”

Harry laughed and put his arms behind his neck as he leaned against the wall.

“We’ll have to wait here until the monkeys leave, so you better get comfortable as well,” he said.

“You’re a fucking wizard, though, aren’t you? Couldn’t you just have turned them all into rabbits or something?”

“Too many of them,” Harry answered. “Especially since I didn’t fancy killing them. They are a bit too human for that.” _And Hermione would kill me.._

Malfoy looked thoughtful, and a bit disgusted.

“One of them talked.”, he said. Harry just stared at him.

“What?”, Harry asked.

“Caesar, the monkey who has been giving me trouble ever since he came here. The one who knocked me unconscious and put me in this cage. He talked,” Malfoy said and narrowed his eyes at Harrys shocked expression. “I take it that isn’t normal, even for guys like you.”

Harry shook his head.

“No, it’s not,” Harry said. “I’ll have to contact the local wizarding authorities about that.”

The monkeys finally seemed to be clearing out, in a rather orderly fashion. Harry waited until he were absolutely sure they were gone before he unlocked the door and let them out.

Malfoy looked around the mess and empty cages with a pained expression.

“Not that I’m not happy to be rid of them or anything, but...” he began.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!”, came a sudden voice from the door.

Harry and Malfoy both turned around to see John Landon, Malfoys so-called dad, standing in the doorway, holding another coffee mug.

“Dad...” Malfoy tried, but was interrupted.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO WITH THE APES? HOW COULD YOU LET THEM OUT, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT?” Landon screamed.

Harry saw Malfoy go pale, almost reaching the skin colour he had had back in Hogwarts.

“Look, that’s not what happened. Let me...” Harry began, and Landon looked at him, apparently he hadn’t realised Harry was there as well.

“AND WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?” Landon bellowed, then paused, a thought striking him. “And where is Rodney?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him.”, Malfoy answered, very quietly.

“I think it’s probably him over there in that cage,” Harry said, pointing at the cage he had noticed when he had first come in.

Landon rushed towards the cage, his coffee spilling everywhere.

“WHAT HAVE YOU TWO DONE TO MY SON?” he screamed.

As Landon unlocked the door and run into the cage, Harry turned towards Malfoy. He had shut his eyes is tightly and looked almost as if he was expecting to be hit, but Harry suspected the blow had already been dealt.

Malfoy slowly opened his eyes and walked towards the cage where Landon was kneeling beside Rodney, who was rocking back and forth, muttering incoherently about monkeys.

“You really aren’t my father, are you?”, Malfoy asked quietly, standing in the door frame.

Landon started laughing, holding Rodney tightly.

“Of course not, you stupid bastard. You were supposed to be cheap workforce. Now look at how much you have cost me, you ungrateful fucker. I took care of you and gave you a home! You had better pay me back, you hear me!”

One word from Malfoy and Harry would have hexed the bastard. He had seen many cruel things in his life, but this was different, and he could see how much it hurt Malfoy, even though he tried to keep his face blank.

Malfoy turned his back at the people he had considered family for years, and started walking towards the door without another word. His steps were steady, but Harry could see his shoulders shaking. He followed Malfoy out of the building, watching the rather amazing mess the monkeys had left behind as they passed the offices. They didn’t stop until they reached the wire fence.

Malfoy stood still, his back turned towards Harry, who was desperately searching for something to say. However, he was not the one to break the silence.

“So, you need my help, right? In Britain? With all the wizardy stuff?”, Malfoy said, his voice breaking with every word. “I’m all yours. Let’s go!”

Harry blinked.

“Umm.. don’t you want to pack first, or something?”, Harry asked, still unsure how he was supposed to act in this kind of situation. Malfoy turned around and looked straight at Harry.

“No.”, he answered firmly, the gray in his eyes as hard as steel. “I never want to go into that house again, and I don’t want to owe that man anything. I’m not going to take anything he has given me.”

Malfoy paused.

“This life has been a lie, and I don’t want to bring a single piece of it with me. I just want to get out of here.”

Harry nodded, and slowly started walking forward.

“Let’s get going then”, he said.

***

A quiet taxi ride later they were back at the hotel Harry was staying at. Malfoy had been staring out of the window the whole way and Harry figured it was best to just keep quiet and let him be. Instead his own head had been filled with thoughts of how he’d have to breach the subject of Malfoy’s Dark Mark and why he has it in the first place. He hadn’t really told him anything about his family and their choices yet.

_I’ll have to tell him, preferably sooner than later._

Harry paid the taxi driver and headed into the hotel, making sure that Malfoy was following him. Not that he thought he’d run away anymore. He didn’t exactly have anywhere to run, and Harry was sure Malfoy was more than aware of that.

“I need to make a couple of phone calls, want to go up to the room or wait here while I call?”

Malfoy was quiet for a little while, probably thinking through the options.

“I’ll stay here ‘n wait.”

Harry nodded and headed over to the phone boots and slipping into one. He left the door open so Malfoy would get to hear his part of the conversation before dialing the travelling agent. Maybe that would leave him with less to explain later.

“Hello, this is Harry Potter. I’d like to change my flight back to London to one as soon as possible and get a second ticket for one Draco Malfoy.”

He could feel Malfoy’s eyes on him as he sorted out the flight business and sent a small smile in his direction every now and then. After a few minutes they were booked on a plane leaving already the next evening. Harry was honestly impressed by the travel agent as he ended the call. 

“One more, to London.” he said and saw Malfoy nod, eyes still locked on Harry.

“Mmmm, Harry?” 

Hermione’s voice sounded even more groggy this time and Harry felt bad for waking her up again.

“Yeah it’s me. Sorry for waking you up again, Hermione. We had a bit of a situation, but well, he’s back with me again and he’s coming with me-”

“He ran away?”

“Yeah, he did. And there-”

“Told you he would.”

“Yes, you did, now please will you let me finish?”

He could hear Malfoy chuckle next to him. He obviously hadn’t heard Hermione’s parts but still understood that she was cutting him off. Once Hermione agreed to listening he continued.

“Well, some weird things happened, namely some sort of monkey uproar, but I’ve got Malfoy back with me here and I just re-booked our flight so we leave tomorrow at 10pm. So we’ll be in London sometime in the evening the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s great! Want me to pick you up or?”

“Harry, I don’t have a passport.” 

Malfoy’s voice cut through Hermione’s and Harry turned to look at him, suddenly worried.

“Umm, he says he doesn’t have a passport. What do we do?”

He could hear Hermione sigh loudly at the other end.

“Honestly Harry? You seem to forget you’re a wizard some times. _Transfigure_ one.”

“...oh yeah. Of course. Well, we’ll be fine. Don’t worry. You can come over the next morning and we’ll talk. Now go back and get some sleep. Sorry again and good night.”  
“Good night, Harry.”

He ended the second call and motioned for Malfoy to exit the phone booth and follow him.

“So what are we doing about my lack of passport?”

“Magic.”

***

Dodge was lying still staring up at the ceiling, even though it technically was too dark for him to actually see anything. He was completely exhausted, but somehow unable to go to sleep. Too much had happened too fast, and his mind was working overtime trying to catch up. Harry, the magic, the monkeys, his dad... Dodge closed his eyes. It was just too much. He wished he could just have gone out and gotten drunk to forget everything. Like he used to.

Except that life had been a lie. And he didn’t want Harry to think he had run away again. Not after everything he had done for him. Like paying for the hotel room he was using. However, no matter how thankful he was for the privacy, Dodge still thought not being alone with his thoughts might have been easier.

Sighing, Dodge turned on his side, making yet another feeble attempt at falling asleep.

***

 _He was sitting on a windowsill. Through the window he could see people heading out from a courtyard following a snowy path. He was left alone in a large castle. He got up from where he was sitting and started walking. The empty corridors never seemed to end and he walked and walked for hours. Never reaching anything.  
_  
***

The following morning, or rather early afternoon, Harry knocked on the door to Malfoy’s room. Harry had been tossing and turning most of the night, trying to figure out a smooth way to tell Malfoy about his involvement in the war, and how the dark mark would help Harry figure out if Voldemort was back or not. He still hadn’t come up with anything, but he was going to try anyway. Malfoy really didn’t need any more lies in his life.

At first there was no answer, and Harry felt himself starting to panic, but then he heard a rustling sound coming from inside and the door opened.

“Good morning.”, Malfoy said, not sounding terribly enthusiastic about it. He looked tired, and his hair was still wet from taking a shower. He was wearing the long sleeved shirt he had borrowed from Harry last night, and Harry thought it looked a bit too tight. Which was hardly surprising, considering how much taller Malfoy was.

“We have to talk.”, Harry said quietly. “I want you to know why I need your help.”

Nodding, Malfoy sat down on the bed.

“So let’s talk”, he said, and Harry sat down beside him, wondering where to begin.

“Show me the mark on your arm.”, Harry said, figuring that was as good a place as any to start.

“Show and tell, is it now?”, Malfoy snorted, but obediently rolled up one sleeve and held his arm out. Harry took it silently. The Dark Mark was visible, but not clear as the marks Harry had seen during the war. However, he didn’t think it was as faded as it should have been either.

“Has it always looked like this?”, Harry asked, and as Malfoy frowned in confusion he added: “This clear?”

“No, it used to be barely visible.”, Malfoy answered, and Harry’s heart sunk. “Some months ago it started hurting from time to time, and it’s really clear when it does. I thought I was having some kind of allergic reaction, but I take it that’s not the case. ”

“It’s called the Dark Mark. You got it during the war. ”, Harry said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Malfoy, I really don’t know how to tell you this, but...”

Harry trailed off, looking for the right words. This really shouldn’t be so hard. A snicker from Malfoy brought him back from his thoughts. Harry looked up and saw Malfoy smirking at him, suddenly looking so much like the prat Harry had known at Hogwarts he had to fight the impulse to punch him.

“You’re trying to tell me I was on the dark side, aren’t you?”, Malfoy said. Harry just gaped at him, and Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, it was fairly obvious, the way you avoided telling me about my part in the war, how you acted when we first met and I _seriously_ doubt any self -proclaimed good guys would use a skull and a snake as symbols.”

The smirk disappeared and Malfoy looked away from Harry who still gaped at him.

“Also, there is the fact that even though you say you know me well, you are using my last name”, Malfoy continued. “And the way you say it makes it sound like an insult.”

Harry cringed. He hadn’t realised at all.

“I’m sorry.”, he said. “Old habits. We used to fight a lot in school.”

“It’s alright.”, Malfoy said. “But since I’m calling you by your first name and all, I think you should do the same. Not that I can remember what my first name was.”

“It’s Draco.”, Harry said. “Right, I’ll try.”

“Draco.”, Malfoy repeated, making an odd face. “That’s a really weird name.”

Harry busted into laughing, relieved by the ease of the conversation, even though he knew they still had many difficult topics to cover.

“Oh well”, Malfoy shrugged. “Beats Dodge I suppose.”

***

Since they had most of the day to spend before the plane left Harry had decided to take Draco shopping and out for lunch as the man was in deep need of some belongings and he was a little relieved to see that not all things had changed when Draco lost his memories. Despite his style being completely different now, Draco wouldn’t just buy any jeans or any plaid shirt. 

They’d bought him one full set of clothes and some other necessities, like a tooth brush and other toiletries, before sitting down in a nice Italian restaurant for some pasta. Harry found himself not minding Draco's company at all. Not even the serious tone the conversation had taken as Draco asked more about his past changed that. 

Harry started by telling him about some of the foundations of the war, about pureblood families and their philosophy. He explained that Draco came from such a family and that his father had been highly involved with Voldemort. Draco listened intently while eating his pasta, never once interrupting Harry’s story. Harry didn’t dare mention Dumbledore and the role Draco had played in that, but instead he explained how both Draco and his mother had done important things in the end. Draco seemed relieved at that and almost gave a small smile.

“Figured I must’ve done _somethin’_ right since you don’t seem to mind talkin’ to the enemy.”

Harry smiled back, though it was with a certain tinge of sadness as he remembered that Draco would be far from safe back in Britain.

“I know you had no choice.”

***

Harry had never flown in a plane before. He had heard that it was quite safe, of course. Harry remembered Dudley gleefully telling him about that trip to the Canary Islands the Dursleys had taken before Harry knew he was a wizard, but he wasn’t sure he trusted a machine flying without magic.

Draco seemed quite comfortable beside him, having nicked the window seat that technically was Harry’s. He smirked at Harry.

“Nervous?” he teased. Harry scowled and shook his head.

“Of course not. I’m just tired from that security check. What is the point of all that, anyway?”

“They are just being careful after 9/11”, Draco shrugged. “It’s annoying, but understandable.”

“What do you mean, 9/11?”, Harry asked, confused. Draco stared at him like he had grown another head.

“9/11, Harry! When the fucking terrorists took over a couple of passenger flights and crashed them into buildings! Thousands of people died!”, Draco exclaimed. “How could you not know about this!”

Harry just stared at him, feeling terrible.

“I didn’t know. We don’t get a lot of muggle news.”, he explained. Draco sighed.

“Fuck it. I need a drink.”, he said. Harry quietly agreed with that statement and bought a number of wine bottles from the stewardess. Draco stared at the bottle for a moment, looking really sad.

“You know, the size of these things is pathetic.”, he said, opening the bottle and taking a sip. “You can’t really get drunk from these.”

“I would prefer it if you didn’t try.”, Harry frowned, not really fancying the idea of spending hours stuck in a plane with a drunk Draco Malfoy. Draco gave him a sour look.

“Well, aren’t we a proper English gentleman.”, he said. “Joykiller.”

Harry rolled his eyes and opened his own bottle.

“Cheers.”, he said, holding up the wine bottle towards Draco, who smirked at him.

An unknown number of wine bottles later Harry came to the conclusion that yes, it was possible to get drunk even if the bottles were small. However, he didn’t regret it. Draco, void of memories as he may be, told the funniest stories when he was drunk, and Harry laughed more than he had in years.

”...and Rodney had this line he kept trying to pick up girls with. I tried to tell him it wouldn’t work, but he kept at it anyway. He would just walk up to a girl and say: ’Hey, Babe. Wanna go to my place and see my monkeys?’ Most girls would just give him a look and leave but there was this pretty brunette one night who said: ‘Maybe, Tarzan, if you get up on the bar in your underwear and scream for me'. And he actually did it! I bought the girl a drink for the entertainment later.”

“The things some people do for girls!”, Harry laughed. “My friend Ron actually had a book on the subject, _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ , it was called.”

Draco laughed, and Harry found himself mesmerised by the sight. It wasn’t the taunting laugh he was used to from Hogwarts. This laugh was an open and easygoing, though admittedly a bit drunk, but without any ulterior motives. It lightened up Draco’s face, and Harry found himself thinking it was beautiful.

Harry blinked. If he was drunk enough to feel attracted to Draco Malfoy, then it was definitely time to stop.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”, he said, standing up. 

“Don’t take too long or your wine might mysteriously disappear.”, Malfoy called after him. Harry laughed. Malfoy could have the wine. Harry just needed to clear his head.

Fortunately the line to the bathroom wasn’t very long, and soon Harry was able to splash his face with cold water. He briefly considered doing a sobering charm, but decided against it. There could be complications if somebody overheard him, and he wasn’t all that drunk.

But still drunk enough to find Draco Malfoy beautiful. Harry shook his head. Maybe it wasn’t so strange. It wasn’t like he had never found men attractive when drunk before, and Malfoy was commonly known as a good-looking guy. He probably only realised it now because of the sudden lack of hostility. Yes, that must be it.

Deciding it was nothing to worry about Harry returned to his seat. Malfoy had apparently fallen asleep in the seat beside him, and Harry was a bit relieved as he sat down. He smiled as he noticed that his wine had, in fact, mysteriously disappeared while he was gone. Leaning back in his seat, he closed his eyes.

A minute later he felt something fall on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Draco, fast asleep and totally oblivious of the fact that he was resting his head on the shoulder of his former school rival. He looked strangely peaceful, and Harry didn’t have the heart to wake him. Instead he closed his eyes again, feeling oddly comfortable as he slowly drifted off to sleep.


	4. Making Pancakes

“My head hurts.”, Draco whined.

Harry was starting to get a headache as well. Ever since they had woken up on the plane Draco had been in a foul mood, obviously hungover.

“You deserve it.”, Harry said, rubbing his temples as he waited for his bag to turn up. “I told you getting drunk was a bad idea.”

“It was an excellent idea yesterday.”, Draco pouted. “And you weren’t complaining.”

Finally, his bag arrived. Now they could get out of there! Harry grabbed it quickly and started to walk towards the exit.

“I’m not the one who’s complaining _now_.”, he said. “And it was earlier today, not yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m so _sorry_.”, Draco spat. “Getting my life turned upside down is affecting my time perception.”

“Ok, that’s it!”, Harry said, grabbing a hold of Draco and dragging him towards the nearest bathroom. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”, Draco yelled, actually sounding a bit scared as Harry pushed him inside and locked the door.

“Just shut up.”, Harry said and took out his wand. He pointed it at Draco, who really looked worried now. Harry smiled at his scared face and silently performed a sobering charm. Draco’s eyes were round.

“Feeling better?”, Harry asked smugly. Draco stared at him.

“A bit.”, he answered, glaring suspiciously at Harry. “What the fuck was that?”

“Sobering charm. No more hangovers”, said Harry cheerfully. “Now, let’s get out of here.” 

Harry led them out of the airport and around the corner, looking for a place without people. 

“The trains were the other way, Harry.”, Draco said. Harry smiled at him.

“We’re not taking the train. I’ve had enough of trains for a while.”, he said. Draco looked confused.

“The buses were also the other way. As were the taxis.”, he said, then was silent for a moment. “We’re not taking any vehicle, are we?”

“No, we’re not.”, Harry said, finally finding a place shielded from muggle eyes. “Grab my arm and hold on tight. This is going to be uncomfortable.”

Harry held out his arm and Draco grabbed it, looking miserable.

“I´m clearly not in Kansas anymore.”, he muttered. Harry gave him a smile and apparated.

They turned up in an alley not far from Harry’s apartment. Draco was still holding Harry’s arm in a death grip, looking very pale.

“You can let go now.”, Harry said, a bit amused. Draco scowled at him, dropping Harry’s arm quickly.

“That was terrible.”, he said, then looked around. “Where the fuck are we?”

“Small village not far from London.”, Harry said. “Come on, my apartment is just over there.”

Harry led them towards the right house, looking around a little to make sure none of his neighbours had seen them appear from thin air. Apparating this close to the house was always a bit risky, but when this tired he really couldn’t bother doing it more safely. But not even this state of tiredness would make him apparate to right in front of his house. This was one of the few downsides to living in a muggle area.

Which reminded him of the fact that he hadn’t informed Draco of his fame either, or that Draco being seen with him could actually cause serious problems. He’d have to mention that soon, as Draco running around town wasn’t really an option.

“So, this is where I live.” He mumbled as he opened the door and let them in. “The bedroom’s upstairs, I’ll take the sofa down here. And I want to sleep right a-- oh yeah, I have to floo Hermione...”

***

Draco followed Harry inside quietly, not commenting on the sleeping arrangements. He wasn’t even really listening to what Harry was going on about, still being quite a bit disoriented from the strange way of travelling. It’d made all his insides turn around and speaking might just be all that was needed for them to want to exit through his mouth. So it wasn’t until Harry stuck his head straight into a green fire in the fireplace that he was shaken back into reality.

“Wh-What are you doing--!?” He nearly shrieked and tried to pull Harry back out of there to save him from the fire. Harry leaned back and looked at him with a strange face, not a single trace of the fire on him until his face showed signs of realization.

“Ah, oh yeah. Sorry about that. This is called the floo system, a way for us to travel and contact other people. I stick my head through and it shows up in Hermione’s fire place. Don’t worry.”

He smiled tiredly and stuck his head back into the green flames again. Draco looked at him for a moment, then decided the weirdness was a little bit too much for him to handle at the moment. He turned his back at Harry and went upstairs. Harry’s bedroom was quite cozy, the bed was king size, covered by a red bedspread, and in the corner on the other side of the room stood and dark wooden desk. A number of bookshelves covered the walls, but the shelves were mostly covered with photographs. The few books Harry had were in suspiciously good condition.

Draco looked closer at the photographs, sort of hoping but not really expecting to find something or someone he recognized. Draco blinked. Then he blinked again. Then he sighed and slowly accepted the fact that the pictures were indeed moving.

Looking closer, he saw that most of the pictures had three reoccurring characters; Harry himself, a red-headed boy and a girl with bushy hair. Draco supposed they were Harry’s best friends, but he didn’t recognize them at all. He briefly wondered if magic schools had yearbooks, and if Harry had a picture of him somewhere. Then again, they had been enemies. So if there was a picture, Harry would probably have drawn a moustache on him or something. Draco knew he would have.

“Hey.”, came a voice from behind him. Draco turned around. Harry was standing in the doorway, looking a bit unsure of himself. Draco could relate to that. This was a very weird situation, after all.

“There are a lot of gingers in these pictures.”, Draco said, gesturing at the photographs. Harry smiled.

“It’s the Weasleys, my friend Ron’s family.”, he said, pointing at the red-headed boy standing beside him in a picture. “Well, they’re pretty much my family as well now.”

“I see.”, Draco said, sitting down on the bed, looking down. The concept of family made him feel kind of empty. Harry apparently understood.

“Hermione and Ron are coming over for breakfast tomorrow, so we should probably go to sleep unless we want them to wake us up.”, Harry said after a few moments silence. Draco nodded.

“Right, good night then.”, Harry said, sounding a bit awkward as he disappeared into the bathroom. Draco let himself fall backwards onto the bed and closed his eyes, not really looking forward to the following morning.

***

Harry tossed and turned uncomfortably on the sofa, wondering what had possessed him to give up his bed to Draco. He supposed it was his chronic hero syndrome, as his friends sometimes called it. Also, he expected Draco would have had a fit if Harry told him to sleep on the sofa. The old one would have, anyway. Harry was still trying to figure out this new one. Sometimes he could have sworn nothing had changed, that Draco was still the prat he had been at Hogwarts, just a few memories short. At other times, however...

Harry shook his head and sat up on the sofa. All this thinking back and forth was getting him nowhere. He went upstairs to the bathroom, thinking that washing his face might clear his head up enough to actually go to sleep. He tiptoed quietly through his bedroom to reach the bathroom door, trying not to wake Draco up.

The cool water actually helped somewhat. Harry decided that he would leave the thinking until tomorrow, and, as far as was possible, to Hermione. Satisfied with his decision and fairly confident he would now be able to sleep he opened the bathroom door.

And stopped dead in his tracks. Draco, still fast asleep, had apparently kicked most of the blanket off him while Harry had been in the bathroom. Staring at the scene in front of him, Harry suddenly realised that when shopping for essentials for Draco earlier, they had forgotten to buy him a pyjamas.

Thus, Draco was lying naked in front of him. On Harry’s bed. And Harry couldn’t stop staring. He wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or disappointed that he had left his glasses downstairs. 

Suddenly Draco sighed in his sleep and turned over on his side, and Harry’s paralysis broke. If Draco woke up, he really didn’t want to be caught in the room, staring at him. Trying to be both as quick and as quiet as possible, Harry made his way out of the room and down the stairs. He sat down heavily on the sofa, burying his face in his hands.

_It was Draco Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake! It was a boy! It was absurd! It was insane! It was..._

Harry shook his head. _It was bad, that’s what it was._

He lay down on the sofa trying to collect himself. He had abandoned all hope of getting any sleep that night.

***

_“Well I’m going to the library, there’s still a lot of research left to do for this essay and that greasy old git won’t let us go with any less than 15 inches!”  
The girl turned around and left the two boys standing alone. The boys looked at each other and sighed before slowly following the girl._

***

Harry was woken up the next morning by an incredible smell filling his nostrils. He sat up rather dazed, feeling like he had been awake all night, but knowing he must have fallen asleep at some point. He heard sounds coming from the kitchen. It was the familiar sound of the frying pan and the rather unfamiliar one of Draco Malfoy singing quietly to himself.

Harry followed the sounds into the kitchen, and immediately wondered if he had ever woken up at all, or if this was another weird dream.

Draco (now fully clothed, thank Merlin) was apparently making pancakes for breakfast. And he seemed to be enjoying it too, judging from the fact that he was singing. Harry just stood gaping at him.

“...far, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter...”, Draco sang, then noticed Harry standing in the doorway and smiled, apparently in a good mood. “You have any maple syrup?”

Harry just shook his head, bewildered. Draco just shrugged and returned to the pancakes.

“Shame.”, he said.”They’ll be ready in a couple of minutes. You just sit down. ”

Harry sunk down in a chair, still watching Draco in amazement.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”, he said. Draco flashed a smile at him, then his expression darkened.

“Neither Rodney nor d... John could cook. They said I usually did it.”, Draco said. “I obviously didn’t remember any recipes at the time, but the process came quite naturally, so I believed them.”

Harry was silent for a while. Consoling people was something he had never been good at, growing up in a cupboard and all.

“I take it I wasn’t the type to cook at that school-what’s-it-called?”, Draco said, clearly attempting to get away from the subject.

“Hogwarts. And no, you were too spoiled for that.”, Harry answered. “I remember you being good at potions, though. I guess it’s kind of similar.”

Draco was silent for a while, concentration on the pancakes, of which there seemed to be a mountain already. Somehow, the thought of someone else making breakfast for him in his own kitchen made Harry happy. It hadn’t happened since Ginny left, and even before that it was a rare occurrence. 

A sound from the living room brought Harry back from his thoughts. He got up.

“I think we have company.”, he said.

Harry went into the living room to see Hermione standing by the fireplace, brushing some ashes of her shoulders.

“Harry!”, she exclaimed and rushed to give him a hug.

“I missed you too, Hermione.”, Harry said, smiling as he returned the hug. Seconds later he heard Ron arrive.

“Blimey, mate. I _told_ Hermione you wouldn’t be up yet.”, Ron said. Harry resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him.

“I _am_ up, I’m just not dressed yet.”, Harry said. “Draco making breakfast kind of threw me off my routine.”

The looks on Ron’s and Hermione’s faces were priceless, and Harry really wished he would have had a camera nearby. But then again, considering how different Draco was now, maybe he would get a second chance.

“Right, ‘cause people making pancakes is way more shocking than people coming in through the fireplace.”, Draco drawled behind him. “Speaking of the pancakes, they’re gonna get cold.”

Harry laughed slightly, half because of the comment and half because Ron was looking from Harry to Draco and back to Harry with his mouth hanging open. Hermione on the other hand seemed to regain her composure rather quickly. 

“Hi, you probably don’t remember me.”, she said, walking up to Draco and reaching out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger.”

Hermione looked a bit unsure about her offered hand, but Draco shook it without hesitation, smiling at her.

“You’re the one Harry called a couple of times, right?”, he said. “I’d introduce myself, but you all know me better than I do.”

Hermione smiled at him, then turned around to frown at Ron. Harry supposed she was trying to hint that he too should introduce himself, but he seemed to be in a state of shock. 

“Draco, this is Ron Weasley”, Harry said, taking pity on his friend. “He’s my best mate and Hermione’s boyfriend. He’s also in a bit of a shock at the moment.”

“Pleased to meet you.”, Draco said, clearly not convinced that was the case. “Let’s talk more over breakfast, shall we? I’m starving.”

Hermione followed Draco into the kitchen, but Ron stopped Harry. 

“Harry, you are _sure_ he’s not faking it, right?”, he asked. Harry nodded.

“Yes, he really doesn’t remember anything. At all.”, Harry answered. “Please, Ron, give him a chance. He isn’t the same person anymore.”

Ron stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

“Fine. I already promised Hermione I would, anyway.”, he said. “It just caught me off guard, is all.”

They went into the kitchen, where Hermione and Draco were already waiting for them. Draco raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but Harry just shrugged and sat down to eat.

Everybody agreed that the pancakes were delicious. Even Ron, who was a bit sceptical at first, took seconds and in the end ate most of them all. Harry was seriously considering buying some of that maple syrup Draco kept going on about.

They kept the conversation light while they were eating, but as soon as they were finished the mood turned serious. Harry briefly retold the story of their adventure in San Francisco. Hermione turned to Draco, wearing the face she had always had when trying to make sense of particularly difficult homework.

“So what do you remember?”, she asked. “Do you remember anything before waking up? Anything at all?”

“Not really”, Draco said, shaking his head. “I obviously remember how to do some basic stuff, read and write and stuff like that, but I have no memory of learning it.”

Hermione nodded, looking as if she was mentally taking notes and comparing it to her earlier knowledge. Harry suspected she already had a theory and was asking questions mostly to confirm it.

“And you didn’t see the dementors?”, she said, not really asking, but Draco nodded anyway. She turned to Harry. “There is something I want to check. Could you bring me Draco’s old wand?”

Harry nodded and went upstairs, feeling a bit odd leaving Draco alone with Ron and Hermione. He quickly found the wand, but just as he was leaving the bedroom he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He suddenly realised he was still in his pyjamas. Shaking his head at himself, he changed his clothes.

Going back downstairs, Harry heard avid conversation coming from the kitchen. Getting closer, he realised with amusement that Ron and Draco were discussing food.

“...usually can’t be bothered to make anything complicated. Pancakes and waffles are more my thing. But I do make awesome pizzas.”

“Wicked. We usually have to go visit my parents if we want decent food.”

“Ron.”, Hermione said warningly as Harry walked through the kitchen door. He smiled to himself. Apparently she still didn’t like to be reminded of the fact that there were things she wasn’t so good at.

“What, your beautiful girlfriend won’t cook for you?”, Draco said jokingly, clearly not anticipating the deafening silence that would follow his words. He looked around uncomfortably as they all stared at him.”What?”

“Did you just... insult my girlfriend?”, Ron asked, frowning and trying to sound threatening while at the same time sounding confused. Draco scowled at him.

“Most people would take it as a compliment, I think”, Draco said, sounding a bit angry.

“I think Ron is asking whether you are being sarcastic.”, Hermione said quietly.

“‘course I was, but not about that! I... I just... Oh, fuck it all.”, Draco said, sounding exhausted, clearly not understanding why they were reacting like this. Realising they really had no reason to, Harry walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s ok. It’s just nothing you would have been caught dead saying before.”, Harry explained. Draco glared at him.

“How would I know that?”, he asked. “All I know is what you have told me.”

For a while it was silent again, then Hermione cleared her throat.

“So, Harry, did you bring the wand?”, she asked. Harry nodded and gave it to her. She looked at it for a moment, then handed it to Draco. He gave her a questioning glance as he took it.

“Try doing magic.”, she said, and continued after Draco gave her a blank look. “Just wave it around and point it at things. Even if it has changed its allegiance, there should be some response.”

Draco didn’t comment, he looked sceptical as he began waving the wand around in a series of movements. Harry couldn’t decide whether he looked impressive or ridiculous. Ron had apparently made up his mind about that, as he was trying to hide a laugh with his hands. Hermione gave him a disapproving look.

“It’s useless, nothing is happening.”, Draco said. “I could just as well be twirling around a hairbrush.”

Harry laughed a little at that, and Hermione frowned at them both.“I was afraid of this.”, she  
said. “I have a theory.”

She stood up from her chair as she talked. Harry suddenly felt like he was a student again and quickly sat down to listen to her.

“I don’t know anything specific yet, but when I was researching in the library I came across rumours of wizards who had lost their magic, or sealed it away somewhere. Doing so they, in essence, became muggles. As the magic disappeared, so did all the memories linked to it.”

“Why would anyone want to do that?”, Ron asked, frowning.

“Most likely they didn’t have a choice”, Hermione said. ”This is just speculating, like I said I don’t know anything specific yet, but I believe it was mostly done to muggle-borns at a young age, when the loss of magic wouldn’t affect the child’s memory much.”

Harry nodded, understanding. “But Draco is a pureblood, so pretty much every memory he had is linked to magic.”

“Exactly.”, Hermione said. Draco sighed.

“Sucks to be me, then.” he said. “Can it be fixed?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll look into it.”, Hermione answered. “It will probably take at least a couple of days. You lie low until then.”

“Why?”, Draco asked, and then followed Hermione’s accusing gaze towards Harry, who guiltily looked away. “Something you want to tell me, Harry?”

“And on that note, we should be going.”, Ron said, standing up and hurrying towards the fireplace, dragging Hermione with him. “Thanks for breakfast. See you later, Harry! ...and Malfoy.”

“I’ll contact you as soon as I know something.”, Hermione said.

She and Ron flooed away, leaving Harry alone with the daggers Draco was glaring into his back. Harry swallowed and turned around to face him. Draco was leaning against the doorway to the kitchen with his arms folded against his chest. He remained silent, but lifted one eyebrow as he continued to glare.

“Sorry, with all the commotion I kind of forgot to tell you.”, Harry said. “It’s better if the wizarding world doesn’t know you’re back in Britain.”

“Sorry doesn’t quite cut it, Harry.”, Draco said, frowning at him. “You’re telling me I’m a wanted man?”

“No! No, of course not.”, Harry exclaimed. “Well sort of, the ministry probably wants to talk to you about what happened at the mansion, but you were cleared of all charges.”

Draco nodded slowly at him, but continued to frown. “Then why..?”

“Some people were not satisfied with what happened after the war, and grouped together to punish everyone with ties to Voldemort. They killed your family years ago, and they’re still after you. The dementors in San Francisco proved that.”

Having blurted out the explanation in one breath, Harry suddenly felt exhausted. He sat down on the sofa, with his back against Draco, so he couldn’t see his face. Harry knew he must be feeling angry though. Probably hurt as well. Harry didn’t really want to fight right now, but he supposed it was inevitable. Things had been running far too smoothly since they left San Francisco.

“I see. And when exactly were you planning on telling me this?”, came Draco’s voice behind him. It was shaking a bit, but whether it was from anger or something else Harry really couldn’t tell.

“I didn’t know how to say it.”, Harry said to the floor. “And now you know.”

“Great. Fucking perfect. Thank you so fucking much.”, Draco said, then sat heavily down on the sofa beside Harry. “Anything else you haven’t told me?”

“That I’m a world famous wizard, so walking around with me in the wizarding parts of town is sure to get you noticed by the wrong people.”, Harry said, looking Draco straight in the eye. Draco’s eyebrows shot up.

“You’re a world famous wizard.”, he repeated, then he bursted out laughing. Harry just stared at him for a moment before he too started laughing, not really knowing what was so funny.

Draco leaned back on the sofa, still laughing softly and shaking his head.

“Man, this is so fucked up.”, he said, and Harry had to agree. His reasons for thinking it was fucked up was a bit different, though. Draco looked at him, smirking.

“You and I”, he said. ”have to start working on our communication.”

Harry laughed a little at that.

“Agreed.”, he smiled.

It was silent for a while, then Draco suddenly sat up straight. Harry looked up.

“Wait a minute. Did you say the wizarding parts of town?”

Harry blinked. “Yes, wizards and muggles generally live in different parts, since the wizarding world is trying to stay hidden. Why?”

“Oh, no reason.”, Draco said, suddenly wearing a wicked smile Harry wasn’t entirely sure he liked. He frowned at Draco.

“What are you planning?”, Harry asked, and Draco smiled innocently at him. After all these years, Harry wasn’t going to be fooled by that. He continued: “And don’t give me that face, I know you’re plotting something.”

“Plotting something? How could you think that?”, Draco said, faking shock in such an elaborate way Harry had a hard time keeping a straight face. “I just figured if wizards live elsewhere then I could go sightseeing. It is my first time in Britain after all.”

“You’re not serious!?”, Harry exclaimed, not having to fake the shock on his face. “You would risk getting discovered just to go sightseeing? And it’s not your first time in Britain. You grew up here, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember it, so it doesn’t count.”, Draco said. “And I’m not gonna hang around in this apartment for days ‘til you friend what’shername finds out anything.”

“Her name is Hermione.”, Harry said. “And you are not going sightseeing.”

“Aww, come on, why not?”, Draco said, almost pleading now. “It will be fun. And from what you’ve told me no one would recognize me in a crowd anyway.”

“True, but I can’t let you go alone. And I would be recognised in a second if there’s even one wizard around. And then we’d find ourselves on the first page of _the Daily Prophet_ tomorrow.”

“What, you’re worried about your headlines now?”, Draco asked with a smirk. Harry glared at him, which only caused him to start laughing again.

“Actually, I might have a solution to your problem.”, Draco said. “You always wear those things, right? Take off your glasses.”

Harry did as he was told, then looked at Draco, who Harry could see was smirking even though he was quite blurry.

“Then what?”, he asked.

“That’s it.”

“You’re joking!”, Harry exclaimed. “You really think no one would recognise me without my glasses.”

“The clever disguise of glasses.”, Draco smirked. “Used by American superheroes since the 1930s. According to Rodney, anyway.”

“This is ridiculous.”, Harry said. “People recognise me by my scar, not my glasses.”

“I think you’d be surprised. Those glasses cover half of your face. You look completely different without them.”, Draco said, then started pleading again. “Come on, please. I promise it will work.”

Harry could feel himself weaken in his resolve. It was dangerous, but on the other hand having to live with a locked-up miserable Draco was not something Harry wanted to experience. Besides, Draco had a point. If they moved in muggle areas and he didn’t wear his glasses and kept his scar covered, then maybe...

“I’ll make dinner if you come with me. Anything you like.”, Draco bargained. Harry’s resolve admitted defeat and disappeared. He sighed.

“Fine. On one condition.”, Harry said, and Draco looked happily at him as Harry blushed. “We need to buy you pyjamas.”

Draco blinked, then bursted out laughing without a hint of embarrassment. Harry found himself getting used to the sound of Draco laughing. It was quite pleasant.

“Deal.”, Draco said.

***

“This is pretty amazing.”, Draco said as he leaned in closely to study Freddie Mercury’s face. “They look so real.”

“They really do.”, Harry agreed, looking at the wax figure beside him, trying to figure out why it looked so familiar.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been here before.”, Draco said. “Madame Tussaud’s is like one of the most famous places in London.”

“I told you, I haven’t been in muggle areas much since before I started Hogwarts.”, Harry defended himself, not mentioning that the Dursleys would never have taken him anywhere near a place like this even if their lives depended on it.

Harry had never been sightseeing before. It seemed like a stupid thing for a local to do, but he was really glad Draco had talked him into it. Some of the stuff they’d seen was pretty amazing, and he’d had a lot of fun playing tourist with Draco. Most of the tourist places were pretty crowded, and Madame Tussaud’s especially was swarming with people, but nobody had even given them a second glance. Except the young cashier who had raised an eyebrow when Harry paid for both his and Draco’s ticket. Harry had pretended not to notice, but Draco apparently found it funny and made a show out of taking Harry’s arm as they went in. 

Harry smiled at the thought as he watched Draco go from figure to figure, clearly recognising most of them and marvelling at the likeness. Harry only recognised a number of the figures, having been away from the muggle world for too long to have learned about the new stars. And even before he found out he was a wizard his knowledge of pop culture had been limited, living in a cupboard as he was. Not that he was going to tell Draco that.

“You ok?”, Draco asked, and Harry realised he’d been lost in thought. He smiled.

“Sure. I was just wondering whether the wizarding world has something similar to this.”, Harry said. “That would be amazing.”

“That would be creepy, if the figures moved like the pictures do.”, Draco said with a shudder. Harry laughed.

“I guess you’re right.”, he agreed. “Ready to move on? I’m getting hungry.”

“Sure, I think we’ve seen most of this place anyway.”, Draco said. “But I’m still disappointed in you for not wanting to see the Chamber of Horrors.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen enough horrors to last a lifetime.” Harry answered. And so have you went unspoken, but Harry had a feeling Draco got it anyway.

***

“So what do you want?”, Draco asked as he put down a couple of apples in the shopping basket. “I promised to make anything you wanted, right?”

Harry looked around in the food store, searching for inspiration. Draco would make anything he wanted, as long as he was capable of it, but Harry had absolutely no idea what he wanted. He was happy enough with someone offering to make food for him to care about what they were serving.

“Anything is fine.”, Harry said finally. “Why don’t you just make your favorite food?”

“We had that this morning, but if you want pancakes for dinner as well, that’s fine with me.”, Draco smiled, then looked thoughtful. “Speaking of which, we have to remember to buy the maple syrup.”

“You can’t eat pancakes for dinner.”, Harry said, laughing as they moved further down the aisle.

“You can if you put salty things on them and call them blini.”, Draco smirked. “Tastes like crap, though.”

“I think I’d rather have something else.”, Harry said as he rolled his eyes.

“Then tell me what you like.”, Draco said, and Harry tried to think of something, but came up blank. He liked that Draco was making dinner for him. Nothing else really mattered, but he wasn’t going to tell Draco that.

“Just make something you like yourself.”, Harry said. “I eat pretty much everything.”

Draco looked at him for a moment, then shrugged.

“Fine, have it your way.”, he said, looking around the store. “How about hamburgers? They taste quite differently when they’re home-made.”

“Sounds good to me.”, Harry agreed. ”I’ve never had homemade hamburgers.”

“Then let’s get a move on.”, Draco said. “They won’t make themselves, and I’m starving.”

Draco set off towards the meat counter, and Harry followed him, unable to keep a big smile of his face. Even later, after they had gotten home and Harry was sitting at the table watching Draco make dinner, the smile just grew. He felt strangely content, and found himself thinking that he could get used to living like this. Even if it was with Draco Malfoy.

The smile faded as he remembered that it probably wouldn’t last. When Draco got his memories back he would most likely never want to see Harry again, let alone cook dinner for him. And they still didn’t know whether Voldemort was back or not...

“I pretty sure Mr. Salt haven’t done anything to deserve such a look.”, Draco interrupted his thoughts. Harry blinked at him in confusion.

“What?”, he asked. Draco rolled his eyes.

“You were staring at the saltcellar like you wanted to crush it on the floor and stomp on its remains.”, Draco said. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”, Harry lied. “Just a bit tired.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at him, obviously not buying it.

“Also that saltcellar is evil. It’s been plotting to kill me for days.”, Harry continued, trying to break the tension. He was relieved when Draco laughed.

“Keep it away from your hamburgers then.”, he said. “I think they’re ready.”

The conversation was light during dinner. Harry found out that Draco had been right, home-made hamburgers were so much better than the ones you bought at the fast food-stores. He gave his compliments to the chef, and was surprised to see Draco blush a little. The smile on Harry’s face came back to stay for the rest of the evening.

“What a day, right?”, Draco yawned after dinner. “I’m exhausted.”

“It’s been a lot of fun, though. I’m glad you talked me into it.”, Harry said, also yawning. “But I guess it’s time to call it a day.”

“Yeah, I’m off to bed.”, Draco said as he rose from the dinner table. Harry did the same.

“Yes, me too. Mind if I use the bathroom first?”

“Go ahead.”, Draco smiled. “It’s your place after all, in case you don’t remember.”

“Shut up, Draco.”, Harry said and rolled his eyes as they went upstairs. 

When Harry exited the bathroom, Draco was sitting on the bed wearing his new pyjamas and waiting for his turn. Harry shook his head.

“I still don’t get how you could choose _plaid_ pyjamas.”, he said. Draco laughed.

“I look good in it, though, don’t I?”, Draco said. 

“Sure, but who is going to see that?”, Harry answered, then bit his lip, realising he’d just said he thought Draco looked good. Draco didn’t seem to notice.

“I see myself, that’s the main point.”, he said, disappearing into the bathroom. “Night, Harry.”

“Good night.”, Harry said. He went back down the stairs and lay down on the sofa. As he turned to try and find a comfortable position he really missed his bed, but thinking about it brought back memories from last night. Harry buried his face in the pillow, resolutely deciding not to think about that. Things were weird enough as it was.


	5. Apples

It was already past noon when Harry woke up the next day. It would seem like he wasn’t completely over the jet lag yet. He slowly got up from the sofa. As he stretched his arms up his back cracked in several places. Side-effects of sleeping on the bloody sofa, most likely. 

His mood was severely brightened as he groggily stumbled into the kitchen to find a plate full of toast and Draco Malfoy reading the Daily Prophet while munching on a piece of that delicious-looking toast. 

“A fucking _owl_ brought in this thing, Harry, what the fuck? It knocked on the window...!”

“...yeah, they do that... Good morning to you too.”

His stomach grumbled as he pulled out a chair and sat down opposite to Draco, who still hadn’t lifted his gaze from the pages of the newspaper. One arm movement later Harry found out the toasts were just as good as they looked.

“So who’s this Boy-who-lived who just returned from America?”

The look Draco gave him made it obvious that he knew exactly who it was, but was interested in an explanation. Harry swallowed the toast without chewing properly. 

“...I. ...Well I sort of survived a couple of killing curses.”

“And now they track your every movement?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, there’s nothing about yesterday. So, today I wanna go see a movie. There seem to be some new Disney pirate thing, I wanna see that.”

Harry was still holding his toast without having another bite, staring at Draco in astonishment. This was beyond bizarre. 

“...A movie. You want to go see a movie.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Fine.”

Harry sighed before giving Draco a small smile and went back to eating his toast. It really was delicious.

***

“You’ve never been to a cinema?”

Draco sounded shocked at this small little fact, and Harry found that amusing. To be honest, Harry wasn’t really sure why he’d never gone. Obviously the Dursleys never took him, but he could easily have gone to a movie theatre over the last few years. He’d just... never thought about it.

“No, I just... never have.”

“Well there’s always a first time!”

Draco smiled at him, and again Harry found himself thinking how it looked quite nice. This time he really didn’t notice the cashier’s look as he paid for two tickets. He was too busy explaining what sort of snacks Honeyduke’s sold, as never having had popcorn was apparently very surprising too.

“So what’s the movie about, anyway?” Harry asked later as they sat in the cinema waiting for the movie to start. Looking around, Harry realized there were mostly teenagers in the room, except for a couple of middle aged men and women who obviously accompanied the younger children. Draco didn’t seem bothered by it, though, so Harry supposed it was ok.

“It’s called _Pirates of the Caribbean_ , Harry,” Draco said. “What do you think it’s about? Fluffy bunnies?”

“Oh shut up, you” Harry said, stealing the rather enormous popcorn casket from Draco’s lap.

“Hey!” Draco exclaimed, and Harry smiled innocently at him, then hushed at him to be quiet as the movie started. 

***

“That was awesome!” Draco said later as they entered Harry’s apartment. 

“Yes, but I think that theme music will play in my head for weeks.” Harry said, sitting down on the sofa as Draco disappeared into the kitchen, purposely starting to hum said music loudly. Harry groaned, and Draco laughed at him as he returned to the living room with a plate of fruit.

“It’s rather amazing what the muggles can do with computers nowadays, though.” Harry said thoughtfully. “Those dead pirates looked quite real. Almost makes me wonder if there’s magic involved.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Draco said, taking an apple from the plate and sitting down beside Harry on the sofa. “But then again, after the last couple of days I kind of feel like nothing could ever surprise me again.”

Harry quietly took a banana from the plate off fruit, thinking about how easily he forgot that it had only been a few days since he met Draco again. For Draco, on the other hand, it probably wasn’t so easy to forget that just two days ago his world had been turned upside down and he had realised he was living a lie. That was most likely the main reason he insisted on doing stuff all the time. To keep busy, so he wouldn’t have time to think.

Harry looked up at Draco, who was munching on the apple like he didn’t have a care in the world. For the first time it dawned on Harry how hard all this must be for him, and he wondered if Draco had always been this strong. It had not seemed so back at Hogwarts, but losing one’s memories shouldn’t really change a person at the core, should it?

Draco raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry realised he had been staring. He blushed a bit and looked away.

“Sorry.” he said. “I was lost in thought.”

“There seems to be a lot of that.” Draco said. “What were you thinking about?”

“Apples.” Harry lied quickly, saying the first thing that came into his mind. Draco blinked.

“Apples?” he repeated and looked down at the half eaten fruit in his hand.

“Yes, apples.” Harry went on. “I was thinking about how they used apples in that movie, how that pirate captain really liked apples, and suddenly you reminded me of him.”

“‘And the apples, try one of those next’”” Draco said, offering him a fresh apple from the plate in a rather good impersonation of the pirate. For some reason Harry got chills down his spine, but he took the fruit offered to him.

“Do you think I would look good as a pirate?” Draco asked with a grin. “Ruggedly handsome?”

“Maybe.” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “But you’d have to do something about that ridiculous hair of yours first.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my hair!” Draco said. Harry grinned at him.

“Your roots are showing, Draco. Which would be fine if they were dark like normal people’s, but your roots are practically white. It looks ridiculous.”

Draco threw a pillow at him, and Harry just laughed.

“Shut up, Harry." Draco pouted.

“Why did you dye it anyway?” Harry asked, but regretted the question immediately as a shadow passed over Draco’s face. He looked down on the floor.

“Rodney and John used to make fun of it, saying I was still ‘baby blond’, so I dyed it.” Draco said. “In hindsight, though, I think they were probably trying to make me dye it, so people wouldn’t wonder.”

Harry nodded. It made sense. Draco looked back up at him, humor returning to his eyes.

“With your hair, you really shouldn’t be talking about anyone else, you know.” he said. “What do they call that haircut, anyway? Indescribable mess?”

“Shut up, Draco.” Harry said, throwing the pillow back at him. Draco caught it, laughing, and that was the start of the first pillow fight either of them had had in years.

***

Harry tried to ignore the knocking and return to the strange dream. Draco had been in it, but he had been dressed as the pirate captain from the movie and sported a short beard. He seemed to be walking around on a ship, bellowing orders to unseen crew members and eating an apple while he did it. Ruggedly handsome did not even begin to describe him. Harry was a bit unsure of his own role in the dream, but figured he was either the ship or the monkey.

The knocking got more intensive, and Harry reluctantly opened his eyes. An owl was outside his window, carrying a letter. Curious, he got up to open the window and let it in. The owl flew away as soon as he took the letter. Turning the letter around to open it, Harry saw the Ministry's seal and sighed. What the hell did they want now?

Hoping they hadn’t found out anything about Draco, Harry opened the letter and read it. He was both relived and annoyed to see that it was just another one of those “we require your presence to advise the Auror on matters of great importance and discretion”-letters. Which usually meant they wanted him to go and tell everyone stories from the war. The letter was formulated so it was basically impossible to turn down. Harry had asked both Ron and minister Kingsley himself to try and stop these letters, but it seemed they had been unsuccessful.

He sighed again as he went upstairs to get ready. Draco was still sound asleep, so Harry tried to be as quiet as possible as he went to the bathroom and got dressed. Draco still hadn’t woken up when Harry was finished and ready to go, but he figured it would be a bit heartless to just leave a note.

Harry sat down on the bed, putting a hand on Draco’s shoulder and gently shook him awake. Draco looked sleepily up at him. Harry smiled.

“What time is it?” Draco asked, yawning.

“It’s still early.” Harry said. “Listen, I just got a summon from the ministry and have to leave. I’ll be back in the afternoon.”

“Is it bad?” Draco asked. “Should I be worried?”

“No, it’s nothing. Just the Ministry being annoying.” Harry said. “I just wanted to tell you. You can go back to sleep if you like.”

Draco nodded and fell back on the pillow as Harry rose from the bed.

“Oh, and Draco?” Harry said.

“Mmmm?” Draco mumbled.

“Don’t leave the house.” Harry said. “Please.”

“...Fine. Promise.” Draco answered and disappeared under the blanket. Harry left the bedroom, smiling to himself. He had never seen Draco all sleepy like that, and he found it surprisingly cute. He suddenly hated the Ministry for stealing a day from him. After all the days he could spend with Draco was, most likely, very limited.

***

Draco was bored. Completely, utterly, _fucking_ bored. Harry’s apartment was completely void of entertaining things. Like a TV. Why the hell didn’t Harry own a fucking television? Draco made a mental note to have a talk with Harry about that later.

Draco was examining Harry’s bookshelf, looking for something even remotely interesting to read. He had tried opening a few books about magic, some of which had clearly not been opened before, but he didn’t understand any of it. Then there were the books about a magical sport involving broomsticks, but Draco didn’t really see the appeal of those even though Harry clearly did, judging from the rugged look of the books.

The only fiction Draco found in the shelf was a book called _the Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , which apparently contained fairy tales aimed at children. Draco was a bit baffled at the discovery. What the hell did Harry do in his spare time, with no TV, no computer and no novels or anything? Sighing, Draco took the book with him and went downstairs to start reading.

He was surprised to find it quite interesting. Draco had no memories of any tales from his childhood. At the occasional mention of a fairy tale by Rodney or his friends, Draco had just pretended to know what they had been talking about but not being interested. He had done that a lot, enough to earn him a reputation as the kind of guy who doesn’t really care about anything. Except maybe chicks. Not that he had showed all that much interest in them either.

Reading _the Tales of Beedle the Bard_ Draco found himself wondering if he had known these stories, if he had read them as a child, or if someone had maybe read them for him. The thought made him a bit sad. He had no memories of the stories now. He quietly wished Harry was back, having someone else around was a good distraction. 

Sometime later, he heard the unmistakable crack from the living room, telling him somebody had just arrived trough the fireplace. Flooed, or whatever it was called. Draco figured Harry had probably come back early. Leaving the book on the table he went into the living room to greet him.

Draco stopped in his tracks as he saw that it wasn’t Harry at all, unless Harry had magically turned into a rather beautiful red-haired chick. Draco didn’t think that was very likely.

“Hi, Harry. I was just in the neighbourhood and...” the red-head begun, then looked up and saw Draco. Her smile changed into an expression of shock and disbelief, and in one swift movement she pulled out a wand and pointed it at him. Draco raised hands automatically, as if he was being threatened by a gun rather than a pointy stick.

“ _You_!” the chick said. “What are you doing here? Where is Harry?”

“Whoa, easy with that thing.” Draco said, a little worried that she might turn him into a toad or something. Did witches really do that? “Harry got called to the Ministry for some reason.”

She eyed him suspiciously. 

“And why are you here?” she asked, then her eyes went wide. “Wait, are you living here? Are you and Harry...”

“What? No!” Draco said, almost laughing at the look on her face. “I mean yes, I’m currently living here, but we’re not together.”

The chick lowered her wand, but she still seemed a bit suspicious. Draco took the opportunity to put his hands down.

“Then why are you living here?” she asked.

“I take it you haven’t heard of my little memory loss? Harry is helping me, and I’m supposed to help him in return.” Draco said. “That said, I’m sorry, but I have no idea who you are.”

“I’m Ginny Weasley.” she said, sounding a bit stunned. “You really don’t remember me? Not that we ever had much to do with each other, but still...”

“I don’t remember anyone, so don’t feel bad.” Draco smiled. “Are you related to Ron, by any chance? I met him and his girlfriend a couple of days ago.”

“Yes, he’s my brother.” Ginny said and seemed to relax a little. “You met him? That must have been an awkward meeting.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Draco laughed. Ginny stared at him a bit.

“You seem... different.” she said.

“I’ve been getting that a lot, but I really wouldn’t know.” Draco said, scowling. “Are you and Harry close? I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

“I’ve been away for a while, so it’s not that surprising.” Ginny said, sitting down in the sofa. “And actually I’m Harry’s ex-girlfriend, but we’re still friends.”

Draco had been expecting something similar, but he was still a bit surprised. He went to sit down in the armchair beside the sofa.

“Aren’t you his best friends sister, though?” Draco said. “Isn’t that a bit strange?”

“Yes, we were more like family, so we broke it off.” she laughed. “And we stayed friends and moved on.”

“You’re dating someone else, then?” Draco said, then paused. “I’m asking a lot of personal questions, aren’t I?”

“It’s ok, though it’s rather strange since it’s you.” Ginny laughed. “I’m dating one of my team mates now. Oh, I’m a professional quiddtich player, you probably don’t know that.”

“Quidditch? I think I saw a few books on that upstairs.” Draco said. “That’s the broomstick-sport, right?”

Ginny stared at him for a moment, then bursted out laughing. Draco looked at her, a bit offended.

“Sorry.” she said after a while. “You really don’t remember anything, do you? It was wrong to laugh.”

Draco told her it was ok, but he didn’t see what was so funny about it. She smiled at him.

“It‘s just that you used to play yourself back at Hogwarts. Was pretty good at it too, though your team never did beat ours. And not for lack of trying.” 

“Tell me about it?” Draco said. Ginny gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Are you sure? I really didn’t like you back then, so I may be a bit biased.” she said.

“Go ahead.” Draco answered.

***

Just as Harry had suspected it had been all about war stories. There was a new group of aurors-in-training again, and those bastards higher up still seemed to think knowing exactly how the final battle happened was an important part of their course. And that Harry had no choice but to tell them everything he remembered.

At least he’d had the chance to stress the importance of the role the Malfoys had had. He’d done that quite often, but somehow it had felt different today. Almost as if he’d never truly meant it before, but now he did. Amazing what a couple of days with Draco Malfoy can do to you.

The day seemed to drag on forever. Harry was constantly wondering what Draco was doing back home. He was probably bored. Harry really hoped he had kept his promise and stayed in the apartment. As the day went on, he got more and more worried, and by the time he finally managed to get away he was practically insane.

Harry rushed to the floo and went home. Draco was nowhere to be seen as he stepped through the fireplace. Harry was just about to shout out his name as he heard a laughter coming from upstairs.

Wondering what on earth Draco was doing, Harry walked up the stairs, stopping in the middle as he started to make out the words of a conversation. There was someone else in the bedroom with Draco. A girl. Who the hell...

“Seriously? I really don’t remember ever doing _that_.” came Draco’s voice, sounding amused.

“Oh, you did.” said the girl, and Harry was startled when he recognised the voice. “I remember the sixth year at Hogwarts. We got together that year, but he was completely obsessed with you. I was so jealous.”

“Ginny!” Harry exclaimed, bursting through the door, and just stared at the scene in front of him. Ginny and Draco sat on his bed, side by side, apparently looking through one of Harry’s photo albums. Both of them had big smiles on their faces. They looked up at Harry when he came in.

“Hi, Harry.” Ginny said. “I dropped by a while ago. I didn’t know you had a house guest.”

“Yeah, she’s been telling me all kinds of stories about you.” Draco smirked. “It’s been really entertaining.”

“I’m sure.” Harry said tiredly, sitting down by the desk. Ginny gave him a worried look and got up from the bed.

“I should be getting going.” she said. “It was nice meeting you, Draco. Hope you get your memories back.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Draco asked politely, but Ginny shook her head.

“Maybe some other time.” she smiled. “I wasn’t planning on staying this long anyway, and my boyfriend is probably worried. It was nice seeing you, Harry.”

She disappeared downstairs, and they soon heard the crack of the fireplace as she flooed away. Draco looked at Harry, frowning a little.

“Are you ok, man?” he asked. “You seem tired.”

“Just had a bad day.” Harry answered, rubbing his temples. “I’m happy you didn’t run off, though.”

“You were worried about that?” Draco said, walking over to where Harry sat. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, but you were half asleep.” Harry said, looking up at Draco, who scowled at him.

“Well, I can’t say I didn’t want to get out of here. You have the most boring apartment ever.” Draco said. “Why don’t you at least have a TV? I would have died of boredom if Ginny hadn’t showed up.”

“Good thing she dropped by, then.” Harry muttered, looking down on the floor. Draco was silent for a while, studying him. Harry kind of wanted him to look away.

“Wait a second.” Draco said. “Are you _sulking_?”

“No, I’m not.” Harry protested, a little too loudly. “I’m just tired.”

“You’re sulking. Are you mad ‘cause your ex dropped by, or is it something I did?” Draco asked.

“It’s nothing.” Harry said, getting up and starting to walk downstairs. “I just need to rest a bit, is all. ”

Draco followed him silently downstairs, but went into the kitchen as Harry went to sit down on the sofa in the living room. Judging from the sounds, Draco was making dinner. Harry sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands.

He didn’t even know why he felt like this. He had been thinking about Draco all day, wanting to be home with him and worried that he might break his promise. He ought to have been relieved when he came home and Draco was still there, but finding him laughing with Ginny, on Harry’s bed... for some reason it hit him hard. 

It wasn’t so much the “Ginny”-part of it all. He had been hurt when they broke up, but he was over that and they were good friends again. It was more the fact that Harry had spent all day worrying about Draco, while Draco apparently hadn’t given Harry a second thought. He seemed perfectly happy spending time with Ginny, just as happy as he seemed spending time with Harry. Harry knew it was ridiculous, but he was forced to admit to himself that he was jealous. 

Harry let himself fall down on the sofa, closing his eyes. He wished he could just stop thinking.

 

“...rry. Harry. Wake up.”

Harry slowly opened his eyes to see Draco crouching beside the sofa. His face seemed a bit blurry, and Harry realised his glasses must have fallen off again.

“You feel better now?” Draco asked. “Dinner is ready if you want to eat.”

“Sure. Yeah. I feel better.” Harry said, sitting up. Draco handed him his glasses, and when Harry put them on he saw that Draco was frowning at him.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Want to tell me what the fuck that was about?” Draco asked. Harry cringed.

“I can’t explain it. It was an irrational thing.” Harry said, not quite lying. “Because I was tired. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Fine.” Draco said, clearly not satisfied. “Dinner. Now.”

Conversation was forced throughout dinner, even though Harry tried to smooth things over by complementing the delicious food. Draco went to bed pretty much immediately after dinner. Harry could understand how he felt, knowing Harry was hiding things from him. People had been hiding things from Draco since before he lost his memories, and he deserved to hear the truth. But what was Harry supposed to tell him? “I was sulking because you chatting with Ginny made me jealous.” That would end well.

Harry tried to think of something he could do to make things right again, and suddenly got an idea. He went into the kitchen to pick up the seldom used muggle phone.

“Hello? I’d like to place an order, please.”


	6. Hidden Memories

Harry woke up to the smell of pancakes again the following day. He sat up and stretched, his back aching worse every day. He was seriously considering buying another bed as he went into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to watch Draco cook. He was singing softly to himself again, but Harry didn’t recognise the song. It sounded nice, though.

“You know it’s rude to stare, right?”, Draco said after a while, looking up at Harry with a smile.

“You looked like you were having fun, I didn’t want to interrupt.” Harry said, smiling back. “And good morning, by the way.”

“Not if you look out the window, it’s not.” Draco said. “It would probably be easier to swim than to walk in that rain.”

“Welcome to Britain.”, Harry laughed as he sat down at the table. Draco scowled at him, but Harry hid behind the newspaper. _The Daily Prophet_ was quite void of interesting news lately. Apparently the American wizards had stopped the spread of some dangerous virus, but other than that the paper was basically filled with gossip. 

There was even a column speculating about the identity of Harry Potter’s new girlfriend, which usually meant there was no real news to report. It really didn’t seem like any dark wizards were around. Harry was starting to wonder if he had been wrong after all. Turning his gaze to Draco, who was currently serving pancakes, Harry really hoped he’d been wrong.

Halfway through breakfast the doorbell rang. Draco looked at Harry, a little startled.

“The doorbell is ringing.” he said. “Why do I suddenly find it weird that people are ringing the doorbell and not coming in through the fireplace? I must be going crazy.”

Harry laughed at him as he got up to open the door.

“It’s probably something I ordered yesterday. I’ll take it. You just keep eating.”

Despite his words, Draco was waiting in the hallway when Harry came back with the large package he had just bought. Draco stared at him in a mix of joy and disbelief.

“You bought a television?” he asked, amazed. Harry laughed.

“Yes, and a DVD-player.” he said. “You kind of got me thinking. Why the hell didn’t I have one?”

Draco gave him a hand carrying the package into the living room and then setting up the system. Harry was thankful Draco was there to help him with all the cables. When they were done they took a step back to admire their work. Draco shook his head in amazement.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of awesome?” Draco asked, and Harry blushed deeply.

“Occasionally maybe.” Harry answered quietly. “Why?”

“No reason.” Draco said, walking back into the kitchen. “Come on, breakfast is getting cold.”

***

“Wow Harry, when did you get a TV?”

Both Harry and Draco had been so immersed in their breakfast and the discussion of what DVDs to get that neither of them had heard the crack of the fireplace or noticed as Hermione walked into the kitchen. Both looked up at her in surprise as she spoke.

“What, am I interrupting some domestic moment again?” 

There was a smile on her lips as she said that and Harry suddenly felt like she could see right through him. He couldn’t help blushing.

“No, ah, I mean yeah, I just bought it yesterday. Showed up a little while ago. Figured there was no reason why I didn’t have one... yeah.”

She sat down with another knowing smile and thanked Draco as he offered her some of the pancakes. 

“So, you probably want to know why I’m here. Yes, I think I’ve figured it out.”

Wide smiles spread over both Harry’s and Draco’s faces, but Harry’s disappeared as fast as it had shown up. He wasn’t sure if it was because Hermione’s face told him something was up or that he … wasn’t sure he wanted Draco to get his memories back.

Shrugging that thought aside he put down his cutlery.

“What do you have to tell us then?”

Hermione sighed.

“Well, I’ve been researching a lot the last couple of days and it seems my hunch is probably right. It’s a potion. It’s not well known since, well, it’s not from around here, but from Northern Europe. There was a time when wizards in some areas there had to hide and it was safer to hide away one’s magic...”

“Hide away? So it’s just hidden away?”

“That’s what I think, yes. But that’s where it gets complicated. The potion requires an emotional addition as it is drunk. The drinker needs to entrust their magic to someone, a person who they trust completely. Their magic and their memories would be sealed away within that person as the potion takes effect.”

“...Are you saying...” Harry mumbled, fearing what she was about to say.

“Yes. We need to figure out who that person is for Draco. The only way for this to be reversed is for that person to drink the same potion to give it all back.”

“So it has to be one of my friends, right?”

Draco’s eyes travelled from Harry to Hermione and Harry sighed.

“Draco...”

Harry didn’t know what to say, even less how to say it.

“Pansy. Pansy Parkinson. She’s the only one I can think of, Harry.” Hermione said. “She’s been safe out of the country for years, I’ve heard. You should contact her.”

Harry watched as her eyes shifted over to Draco who was looking down at his plate, picking on the pancakes with his fork. Harry didn’t blame him, he never did tell Draco enough, did he? He’d have to do his best to cheer him up later. They could go DVD shopping, maybe?

“Yeah, I’ll owl her. Wait, let’s do it right away actually.”

Harry got up from his seat to fetch some parchment and a quill, leaving Draco and Hermione alone together in the kitchen. As he rummaged through his drawers he once again mentally reminded himself to sort through them. Should it really be this hard to find a quill that wasn’t snapped? Why had he saved all these snapped ones, anyway?

After finally finding one he walked back to the kitchen, both parchment and quill in hand. 

“...think he’s trying to impress you, to be honest.” Hermione’s voice could be heard through the door opening.

“Why would he...?”

They both went quiet as Harry walked in and he could feel a blush spreading all over his face. Was the TV really that obvious? He sat back down without looking at either of them.

“So, here’s some parchment. What do we write?”

After a while they had finished a short letter explaining the situation and asking if it could be Pansy or if not, if she had any idea who it could be. Harry had rolled it up and sent it off with Altheda, who had replaced Hedwig a while after her death. After that Hermione had excused herself and left for work, leaving Harry and Draco alone again. 

Staying true to his previous intentions Harry had suggested they’d go buy some DVDs, which seemed to cheer Draco up. So there he was, back in his own kitchen, watching Draco make popcorn on the stove. On the table next to him there was a pile of DVDs and a bottle of what Draco had called a life necessity; Coca Cola. Harry himself would have preferred a bottle of wine, but maybe that didn’t go with popcorn.

As the popcorn got done they carried them, the movies and their drinks into the living room and settled down by the sofa. Harry instantly munched a fist full of fresh popcorn before asking;

“So what movie did you want to start with?”

“The Lord of the Rings! You have to see them, well the two first ones. They’re kind of magical. And the last part will be released later this year, and well I, I thought...”

Harry picked up the two topmost cases from the pile and looked at them. 

“You thought?”

“...that we could go see it together.”

Draco pulled the case of the first movie from Harry’s hands and turned around to face the TV. Harry couldn’t help but smile.

 

Harry felt a little uncomfortable as the movie played. As a slightly familiar-looking wizard explained to the main character how Sauron’s soul had survived in the ring he swallowed and pulled his knees up to his chest. 

“The creator of this story has to be a wizard”, he mumbled.

“Why?”

“...Nothing special.“

But if that ring was not a Horcrux then Harry wasn’t the boy who lived. 

For a little while he was able to watch without uncomfortable moments, and he found himself already very interested in the story. Until black, hooded figures entered and he couldn’t help the shiver going up his spine. He quickly diverted his gaze, but he could still see them in the corner of his eyes. Quickly, he stood up.

“I’ll get some chocolate too. Need something sweet.” 

He could feel Draco’s eyes on his back all the way to the kitchen. When he returned, the movie had been paused and Draco was again watching him as he made his way back to the sofa. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just go on.”

“Harry.”

“It’s... A lot of these things are just a bit too real... Those guys, they’re just a bit too similar to Dementors.”

“Those cloaked figures that make you feel cold and depressed?”

“Yeah those.” Harry sighed. “Just press play, it’s fine.”

Draco did, and as time passed Harry found himself engulfed in the story. Draco had been right. Even as he ignored the uncomfortably realistic aspects the movie was simply magical. He couldn’t help but feel such sympathy for many of the characters, especially for the complicated relationship between an elf and Aragorn. 

“That’s a really pretty necklace.” he said as Arwen gave the Evenstar necklace to Aragorn. 

“Yeah it is. You’d look ridiculous in it though.” 

Harry laughed.

***

Pansy’s answer arrived some time after breakfast the following morning. As Harry opened the envelope, he realised he wasn’t sure what he wanted it to say. It would be great for Draco if Pansy had his memories, of course. Great for Draco, but... For some reason Harry didn’t want to think Draco trusted Pansy that much.

Draco was watching him from across the table, so Harry pushed his thoughts aside and reluctantly begun reading.

_Potter,_

_Let me start by immediately answering your main question. Draco’s memories are not with me, and I’m sure none of the other Slytherins have them either. You probably don’t realise this, but he would never have put any of us in that situation, not even the ones he otherwise trusted. Especially not after what happened to his parents. He would have known it to be dangerous for us. You are going to have to look somewhere else for the person with Draco’s memories. They may be someone you wouldn’t expect.  
That being said, I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear Draco is alive. Please keep me updated on the situation. If you do manage to find his memories, I would very much like to meet him again. Good luck to the both of you!_

_Sincerely,_

_Pansy Parkinson_

It was with mixed feelings Harry handed the letter over to Draco. Part of him was relieved that it wasn’t Pansy, but that also meant they were back at square one. Harry really had no idea where else to look.

“Well, I guess it’s nice to know that at least one person didn’t think I was a complete scumbag.” Draco said, putting the letter down. “So, what now?”

“I’m sorry, Draco. I have no idea.” Harry answered helplessly. Draco nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“It’s ok, maybe something will turn up. It’s not like I really know what I’m missing, anyway.” he said. “Seems like I’ll continue to take advantage of your hospitality for a while longer, though.”

“Well, it’s kind of nice to have company.” Harry admitted with a smile, glad Draco took the bad news so well. “Except that sleeping on the sofa is slowly killing my back.”

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that, actually.” Draco said. “Why didn’t you just do some magic and turn the sofa into a bed?”

Harry blinked, then burst out laughing.

“Oh, Merlin.” Harry said. “I’m an idiot.”

“Nah, I’m just a genius.” Draco smirked. “Not everyone can have my superior intellect.”

“Shut up, Draco.” Harry said, but he was smiling. He felt strangely thankful his days living with this Draco wasn’t over yet. After all, who knew what would happen when his memories returned. Draco wouldn’t cook for him anymore at the very least, of that Harry was certain.

“So what do you want to do today?” Harry asked. “More movies?”

Draco shook his head.

“Don’t think so. We did that pretty much all day yesterday.” he said. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into buying a Playstation, could I?”

Harry thought he probably could, but he remembered what he had overheard Hermione talk about yesterday, about him wanting to impress Draco, so he shook his head.

“No, I don’t think so.” he said. Draco shrugged.

“Oh well, it was worth a try.” Draco said. “Let’s go out for a walk or something. Today seems to be that one day Britain have each year when it’s not raining.”

They went out, and Harry was wearing the same “disguise” as he had when they were sightseeing a few days ago. It really was a nice day to walk around aimlessly in the neighbourhood. With the exception of Harry himself, the area was inhabited solely by muggles, which was why he had chosen it. Being surrounded by his adoring fans in the wizarding world all the time was not Harry’s idea of a peaceful living.

It was a nice neighbourhood though, not nearly as monotone as Privet Drive had been. Harry had rarely just walked around in it, but he found himself enjoying the walk. That might also have had something to do with the company, though.

It was a warm day, so they stopped to buy ice cream and sat down on a bench in a nearby park to eat it. Harry had chosen chocolate, but Draco had gone with vanilla, which kind of surprised Harry. He would have though Draco was the type to choose something elaborate. Draco just shrugged when Harry told him this.

“I just felt like going back to basics today, is all.” he said. “Vanilla is about as basic as it gets.”

Harry really couldn’t argue with that.

They spent most of the day just walking around, and ate dinner at a nearby Chinese restaurant. Harry felt he would rather have had something Draco made at home, but he supposed he couldn’t expect that every day. Thinking about it, he probably shouldn’t expect it at all, but it had somehow become a part of his everyday routine. Draco seemed to enjoy the Chinese food, though.

They stayed in the restaurant for a long time, just talking about everything and nothing, and by the time they got home it was already dark. Harry turned the sofa into a bed without a word, ignoring the fact that Draco was standing behind him, smirking at him.

Draco claimed he was tired, so they went to bed early. Harry wasn’t really able to sleep, even if the transfigured bed was a lot more comfortable than the sofa had been. His treacherous mind kept returning to thoughts of Draco. The way he looked when he smiled. The sound of his laughter. How he had tried to hide his disappointment when he read Pansy’s letter. The way his tongue swirled around the ice cream-cone...

All these thoughts, the last one especially, seemed to give Harry a headache. He buried his head underneath the pillow, trying to will his mind to be quiet.

Harry was startled to suddenly feel a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Draco looking down on him with an unsure expression on his face. Not really knowing whether this was real of if his mind was playing tricks on him, Harry sat up in the bed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s the mark on my arm. It kind of... hurts.”, Draco said, and Harry suddenly realised his headache wasn’t a product of his thoughts after all. His scar hurt. Not nearly as much as it used to, though, which was probably why Harry hadn’t noticed until now.

“Let me see. Where are my glasses...?” Harry said, and Draco wordlessly handed him the glasses before showing him arm. The Dark Mark was completely clear. Harry swore under his breath. Just as he had begun to think he had imagined the whole thing.

“Where is he?” Harry asked, and Draco looked puzzled. “Where does he want you to go? Can you feel anything?”

Draco thought for a moment, then answered.

“Yes, I can feel the place, but I don’t recognise it.” he said. “I don’t know how to get there.”

Thinking fast, Harry took out his wand and pointed it at Draco, who suddenly looked scared.

“What the hell, Harry!?” he exclaimed.

“It’s ok. Relax.” Harry said, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m going to perform Legilimency on you.”

“You’re going to do _what_ to me?” Draco said, wide eyed. Harry shook his head.

“I’m going to read your thoughts.” Harry explained. “I have to know where he is. Don’t worry, it’ll only take a second. And it won’t hurt.”

Draco looked disbelievingly at him, and Harry really hoped he wouldn’t protest. He didn’t want to do this against Draco’s will, but they were running out of time.

“Fine.” Draco said reluctantly. “Don’t make a mess.”

Harry would have found that funny in another situation. At the moment, however, he had to concentrate on the task at hand.

“Try thinking about the place where he wants you to go, ok?” he said.“Legilimens!”

Suddenly instead of Draco’s face there was a dark field before Harry’s eyes. The dark shapes that were the ruins of Malfoy Manor were visible on the horizon. Harry would have recognised the place anywhere, and in a way it broke his heart that Draco didn’t.

Harry broke the spell, and Draco was in front of him again, frowning.

“That was fucking weird.” he said. Harry ignored him, they could talk about this later.

“I have to get going.” Harry said. “You wait here. I’ll be...”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Draco interrupted. “Firstly, I’m coming with you. And secondly, we’re getting dressed first.”

“Draco, there is no way I...” Harry started to say, but was interrupted again.

“Dress. Now.” Draco said. “And I’m coming with you. I have to.”

His tone left no room for argument, and against Harry’s better judgment he did as he was told. Somehow, he knew Draco would never forgive him if he was left behind. He would just have to try and protect him. They dressed as quickly as they could.

“Hold on to me.” Harry said. “And stay back once we get there.”

“Agreed.” Draco said as he took Harry’s arm. Then they apparated.


	7. The Death Eater

The night time air was cold as they arrived on the dark field. Harry felt Draco stagger a bit beside him before letting go of his arm. Draco still wasn’t used to apparating, obviously. Bringing him along had been a terrible idea.  
  
Harry looked around to see a hooded figure standing a bit away. The figure turned to face them while twirling a wand around his fingers. Even from a distance, Harry recognised the wand. He would  have recognised it anywhere.  
  
Gesturing for Draco to get behind him, pointed his own wand at the figure, waiting for him to speak.  
  
“I had a feeling someone would finally turn up tonight, though I wasn’t expecting _you_.”, the figure said slowly. “Luck favours those who are patient, it would seem. Now I can finally have my revenge.”  
  
Harry blinked. For a moment he stood speechless, staring at the hooded figure. That wasn’t Voldemort’s voice, he was sure of it. And even though Voldemort had had a couple of different voices over the years, the speech pattern and tone been the same. This, however, sounded different. But the figure had Voldemort’s wand.  
  
“Show me your face.”, Harry demanded. The figure nodded slowly.  
  
“Yes. Fitting as a last request, to see the face of the one who will kill you.”, the figure said, and let the hood fall down.  
  
Harry had to fight hard to resist the urge to laugh. This definitely wasn’t Voldemort. The face was prematurely old, the hair unkempt and the eyes had quite a bit of madness in them, but Harry was certain it wasn’t Voldemort, not even in another form. Not even as a horcrux. The relief was tremendous, and Harry relaxed a bit.  
  
“Who are you?”, Harry asked. “Where did you find that wand?”  
  
“I am Jugson!”, the man shrieked. “I was the Dark Lord’s right hand man! The wand he left behind chose me as his heir, and I will finish what he started! I will summon his forces again and cleanse this world of mudbloods and blood traitors.”  
  
“You, Voldemort’s right hand and heir?”, Harry repeated, amused in spite of himself. “I don’t even remember you. And what forces? You’re the only one left!”  
  
“Not quite.”, said the man. “Look behind you. Malfoy, kill him!”  
  
Harry actually had to laugh at that point, even more so when Draco threw his hands up and answered:  
  
“You leave me out of it. I have no idea who you are either.”  
  
“BLOOD TRAITOR!”, the man screamed, and cast a curse in Draco’s direction. Harry reacted too slowly, having been distracted by the ridiculousness of the situation. The curse hit Draco with full force, sending him flying for a few meters before falling to the ground, lying very still.  
  
“Draco!”, Harry yelled, but the man started casting a rain of curses over Harry instead. Harry managed to block them, but not much more than that. He had been so relieved it wasn’t Voldemort that he had underestimated the man, and now he was paying the price. Harry just hoped Draco was alright. It hadn’t been a killing curse, so he should be alive at least.  
  
Harry kept on blocking, being forced to walk backwards as he did. The man advanced on him, laughing like a madman. He was winning, and he knew it. Harry just hoped for the man to falter for a second, so he could get an opening. And after a while, he did. It was just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to give Harry time to cast a spell of his own.  
  
“Expelliarmus!”, Harry yelled, and at the same time the man shouted a curse of his own. The light of the spells traveled towards each other with tremendous speed, then hit. For a split second Harry thought the spells would cancel each other out, then the man’s curse came crashing through hitting Harry in the chest. Harry yelled as he flew backwards.  
  
“Crucio!”, shouted the man before Harry had even landed. An intense pain hit him immediately. Every nerve in his body was screaming out in pain, and Harry fought his hardest not to do the same. He tried to block the curse from his mind, but it didn’t seem to be working.  
  
“Look at the mighty Harry Potter now.”, laughed the man. “The Dark Lord will finally be avenged!”  
  
The pain stopped as the man was preparing for the final curse. Harry opened his eyes to see the man lift his arms.  
  
“Avada ke...”, the man started, but he never got to finish as he fell down to the ground, unconscious. Draco was standing behind him, holding a rather large tree branch he had just used to knock him out. Harry could not believe his eyes.  
  
“I can’t believe he didn’t realise I was sneaking up behind him!”, Draco said, sounding amazed. “I’ve never been so scared in my life! Not that I can remember anyway.”  
  
Harry stood up with some effort. His hands and legs were still shaking rather hard from the curse. Draco looked at him.  
  
“What the hell was that last spell he used on you? You looked like you were dying or something.”, Draco rambled on. “Lucky he forgot about me, though. He seemed a bit mad. You should just have cursed him immediately, I think.”  
  
Harry walked over to Draco not really hearing a word he was saying. Harry was just so happy it was over. That the pain had stopped. That Draco had saved him. That Draco was alright. Harry had just intended to give Draco a relieved hug, or maybe even just a pat on the back.  
  
Instead Harry leaned in and kissed him.  
  
As he felt Draco freeze in his arms, Harry’s brain slowly realised what his body was doing, but he didn’t break the kiss. Harry leaned in closer instead, savouring the feeling of what he was sure would be the first, last and only chance he’d ever have of tasting Draco’s lips. His heart did a somersault when Draco suddenly started to respond, kissing Harry back. It wasn’t perfect, and it tasted vaguely of blood, but the kiss was everything Harry hadn’t realised he’d been dreaming of ever since he met Draco again about a week ago.  
  
The sudden sounds of people apparating made Harry break the kiss. Looking around, he saw four Aurors walking up to him. Harry protectively stepped in front of Draco, wondering just how much they had seen.  
  
“Hello, Mr. Potter. We didn’t expect to find you here.”, said the Auror closest to Harry, who recognised him as Alistair Miller, an older Auror Harry had talked to a couple of times. His partner Joseph Martin walked up beside him. Harry suspected the other two were new, as he didn’t remember their faces.  
  
“I had a bit of a fight”, Harry answered.  ”The man on the ground tried to kill me. He is a Death Eater. Probably the last one still active.”  
  
Martin bent down to have a look at the unconscious man on the ground, but Miller continued to eye Harry suspiciously.  
  
“That’s not quite true, is it?”, Miller said. “Isn’t that Draco Malfoy I see behind your back? He is a Death Eater as well, is he not?”  
  
“Not anymore. He was cleared after the war, remember?”, Harry said. “And he helped me defeat that man over there. In fact, he was the one who knocked him unconscious.”  
  
“Was he now?”, Miller said, raising an eyebrow. “And what was he doing out here? As I recall, he’s been missing nearly five years.”  
  
“He helped me find this place. That man had been trying to summon all the old Death Eaters.”, Harry said. “He had Voldemort’s old wand.”  
  
Martin, who had picked up the wand to examine it, suddenly dropped it as if it had been poisonous.  
  
“Look, I can drop by the Ministry and give a full report tomorrow, but it’s been a long night and I just really want to go home.”, Harry said.  
  
“I’m sure that would suffice.”, Miller said, then looked behind Harry, at Draco. “And what about Malfoy? How are we supposed to get a hold of him?”  
  
Harry crossed his arms over his chest and gave Miller a stern look.  
  
“He’s staying with me now, so that won’t be a problem.”, Harry said, ignoring Miller’s raised eyebrows. “Good night, then.”  
  
Harry gestured for Draco to take a hold of his arm, and then he disapparated.  
  
“Are you ok?”, Harry asked Draco as soon as they were both safely home in Harry’s apartment. Draco nodded.  
  
“Yeah, I’m alright.”, he answered, sounding a bit distant. “I’m just really tired. I also have tons of questions, but they’ll have to wait.”  
  
“We should both get some sleep”, Harry said. Draco nodded and went upstairs. Harry watched him leave, realising how much he wanted to follow him. At the same time he realised how wrong it would be to do that.  
  
Harry shook his head and made his way to his own bed instead. As he lay down and closed his eyes, his thoughts wandered to the kiss he had shared with Draco earlier. Harry could still feel the taste of Draco’s mouth on his. It had been wonderful. It had been everything Harry ever wanted...  
  
And it had been a mistake.  
  
***  
  
Harry woke up to the smell of bacon and egg filling his nostrils. As he stumbled away from the awkwardly placed bed in the living room and over to the kitchen he never once thought there was anything different with this day compared to the day before. He greeted Draco with a smile and thanked for the breakfast that was handed to him. He didn’t notice the troubled edge to Draco’s smile nor the way he kept watching Harry even after he sat back down. Not until after a few bites.  
  
“...so about yesterd--”  
  
“I’m sorry.” Harry’s eyes shot up and then quickly back down again as Draco was staring at him.. “I shouldn’t have, I... It’s really not okay, you don’t remember anything and... I was wrong to do that, I really can’t do this.”  
  
“Oh.” There was a short silence. “I see.”  
  
He didn’t dare look up, as he could still feel Draco’s eyes on him. He had to do this now, there was no saying what would happen when Draco got his memories back. Most likely things would go back to how they were. Draco would remember why he hated Harry so much and he’d feel cheated. He couldn’t just use this time without Draco’s memories to just... It wasn’t okay.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted as the Daily Prophet was dropped in front of him.  
  
“Well. Take a look at that...”  
  
And Harry did. He could feel a heavy stone sink to the bottom of his stomach as he read the main headline. _“Boy-Who-Lived in scandalous relationship with Death Eater?”_ And there, right underneath it was a picture of them standing close together, obviously having just kissed.  
  
“Fuck. Just... Fuckfuckfuck.”  
  
“That would be my line.”  
  
“Who took that picture anyway?” Harry almost screamed as he drew his wand and incendio’d the paper, not wanting anything to do with it. He sighed and stared at his breakfast, not really feeling like eating it anymore.  
  
“I find it sorta funny that it’s a bigger deal I’m supposedly a bad guy than that this would make you gay.” Draco muttered from over his tea cup.  
  
“Very funny.” Harry muttered back, but was interrupted by erratic tapping on the window. Outside there was an owl with something that very much resembled a howler.  
  
“Oh god no.” He sighed as he reluctantly got up and opened the window to retrieve the howler, quickly pulling it off the owl’s foot and closing the window in one movement, to avoid any unnecessary complications with the owl and hoping it would get the hint and leave immediately.  
Once it left he turned around with another sigh and looked down at the vibrant red envelope.  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“Proof that someone hates me for this. And I hate these.”  
  
He reluctantly opened it and it instantly started screaming. He didn’t recognize the voice at all, so he had no idea who it was from.  
  
 _“HARRY POTTER. I BELIEVED YOU WERE OUR SAVIOUR. HOW DARE YOU MIX YOURSELF WITH SUCH DEATH EATER SCUM. I THOUGHT YOU WERE ABOVE THEIR KIND. UNLESS THERE IS PROOF OF THE CONTRARY IN THE PAPERS WITHIN ONE WEEK THE HARRY POTTER FUND FOR WAR ORPHANS WILL NOT RECEIVE ANOTHER KNUT FROM MY VAULT._  
  
 _VERY DISAPPOINTED,_  
 _BERTHA WIMBLEGOO”_  
  
  
The letter disappeared in a puff of smoke and Harry let out a breath of relief. That hadn’t been as bad as he’d feared. It was an unknown person, he’d feared it could be from someone he knew. That there would be lots of letters from people he didn’t know was a given, but he wasn’t sure about his acquaintances. He walked back to the table and sat down, resting his head in his hands.  
  
“Wh-what was that?”  
  
 _Ah yes, Draco._  
  
“A howler. An angry letter, basically. Bad things happen if you leave them unopened.”  
  
Draco nodded as he got up and took his plate and cup to the sink and was about to leave the kitchen as Harry quickly grabbed his arm to stop him from disappearing just yet.  
  
“Wait, I uhh, I have to go to the ministry because of yesterday so, just stay here again, please?”  
  
“Sure.” Draco said without looking at him and disappeared out from the kitchen. Harry could hear him walk up the stairs as he got up and threw away the rest of his breakfast.  
  
***  
  
Draco sat in the armchair by the fireplace reading _the Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , doing his best to ignore the sound of wings coming from the kitchen. Some time ago he had gotten fed up with the constant knocking on the windows, so he had just left the one in the kitchen open so the owls could fly in, drop their messages, and leave. A few owls had flown into the living room as well, dropping howlers in his knee. Taking heed of Harry’s words, he had opened them immediately, and then ignored the screaming that followed. A few of the howlers had actually been addressed to him rather than Harry.  
  
Draco was becoming increasingly irritated by the situation. Partly it was because people he didn’t know were accusing him of things he didn’t remember doing and was therefore unable to defend himself against. Mostly, however, it was because of Harry, because of the way he had kissed him yesterday and then refused to follow through. It wasn’t that Draco didn’t understand why Harry thought it was wrong, but it was still irritating.  
  
The myriad of letters saying Harry was too good for the likes of him didn’t make things better.  
  
Realising he had read five pages without comprehending a single word, Draco gave up and put the book down. He went into the kitchen and winced when he saw the rather impressive mountain of letters on the table. He wished he could set fire on the whole pile like Harry had done with the newspaper.  
  
Sighing, Draco started opening the mail. Technically Harry hadn’t given him permission to do this, but he figured he wouldn’t mind. And if he did, then fuck him!  
  
Skimming through the letters, Draco started sorting them into piles. The “how could you” pile was by far the largest, but the “he’s just using you” and “i’m disappointed”-piles were rather impressive as well. There were also a few letters from people Harry apparently knew personally, and Draco was a bit relieved to see most of them just said they trusted Harry’s judgement and hoped he wouldn’t suffer too much from the papers. Some of them wanted to know if what they’d read in _the Daily Prophet_ was true.  
  
Then there was one letter that, in spite of it all, made Draco laugh:  
  
 _Dear Harry,_  
  
 _I KNEW IT!_  
  
 _Sincerely,_  
  
 _Neville Longbottom_  
  
Draco had no idea who Neville Longbottom was, but he put the letter on top of the “friends”-pile. That short letter alone almost managed to restore Draco’s good, and suddenly most of the hate-mail seemed pretty funny to read. By the time he was finished going through it all, Draco was whistling the theme from the _Mission Impossible_ \- movies to himself.  
  
Draco threw himself back in the armchair and turned the television on, hoping the British had some good programs at least.  
  
***  
  
Harry was almost starting to wish he’d let that Death Eater from yesterday finish him off. The day had started bad, but continued worse. From the moment he arrived at the Ministry people had been looking at him with either disappointed, disgusted or frightened faces. He had tried to ignore them as he told the Auror authorities about the events of the night before. They had listened intently to his story, but after he was finished they started asking questions. About Draco. About his and Draco’s relationship. About how long he’d been harbouring a fugitive.  
  
Harry’s protest that Draco wasn’t a fugitive and that their relationship, which was platonic, thank you very much, had nothing to do with the matter discussed, was effectively ignored. The only upside to the day was Ron. Though they didn’t get a chance to speak, Harry was relieved to see neither disappointment nor disgust on Ron’s face, only worry and sympathy.  
  
When Harry finally was allowed to leave the Ministry, he seriously considered hanging out at a bar or something instead of going home. The day had been terrible enough already, and he knew Draco would still be mad at him when he got home. Harry couldn’t blame him for that, although he wished things were still as they had been yesterday. Before the fight. Before the kiss.  
  
Seeing two reporters making their way towards him, Harry decided it would probably be better to go home after all. Sighing, he stepped into the fireplace and flooed home.  
  
Harry stepped out of his own fireplace and started to brush the ash of his sleeves.  
  
“Move, Harry. You’re blocking the television.”, came Draco’s voice from behind him. Harry looked up to see Draco sitting in the armchair with a paper and a quill in his hands. Turning towards the television, he realised Draco was watching a cooking program.  
  
“You’re actually taking notes.”, Harry said, bewildered and a little amused in spite of himself. “It looks delicious, though.”  
  
“If you want to eat it, you better move.”, Draco said, and Harry was surprised to realise he just sounded preoccupied, but not angry. Harry moved out of the way, towards the kitchen.  
  
“I sorted through the mail.”, Draco said, eyes still fixed on the television. “Most are crap, but there are a few from your friends you might want to read. Especially the top-most one.”  
  
Harry entered the kitchen and saw the piles of letters, feeling ridiculously thankful he didn’t have to read through them all himself. The pile from his friends were by far the smallest one, but it was the only one containing opinions he cared about.  
  
He took the top-most letter from the pile, the short note from Neville, and just stared at it for a moment before bursting into laughter. That was Neville for you! After how Draco had treated him at school, Harry would fully have understood if he’d have sent a howler. Instead there was this note, non-judgemental and triumphant. Harry smiled as he started going through the rest of the pile, his earlier irritation forgotten.  
  
Draco entered the kitchen as Harry finished the last letter. He looked up, a bit surprised to see Draco smile at him.  
  
“Finished?”, he asked. Harry nodded.  
  
“Yeah. Thanks for sorting them for me.”, Harry said. ”I really appreciate it.”  
  
“No problem.”, Draco shrugged. “What are you gonna do with the rest of them? Target practise?”  
  
Harry laughed. “Sounds like a good idea.”  
  
“A few of them were rather funny, though.”, Draco grinned. “There was this one witch who had named her toad after you, but now she was going to change it. Like you’d care.”  
  
Harry studied him intently for a while, then asked:  
  
“You’re not still mad at me?”  
  
The smile disappeared from Draco’s face, and Harry mentally slapped himself. But he had to know, he couldn’t just pretend things were alright while wondering if Draco actually hated him.  
  
“I’m still mad at you.”, Draco said after a while. “But it will pass. Want to watch a movie tonight?”  
  
Harry gaped at him for a moment, then nodded, speechless. Later, as they sat side by side in the living room watching _the Matrix_ , Harry started feeling like everything would be alright.  
  
  
 _He was standing in a bathroom, bent over the sink with one hand on either side of it. He was crying silently, his whole body shaking._  
 _“Don’t...don’t”, said a voice.”Tell me what’s wrong...I can help you.”_  
 _“No one can help me...”, he said. “I can’t do it... I can’t... it won’t work...and unless I do it soon...he says he’ll kill me.”_  
 _There was a gasp behind him and he looked up in the mirror to see Harry Potter standing in the doorway, staring at him. All the frustration turned to anger in a heartbeat as he spun around and casted a hex at Potter, missing his target._  
 _At that point, he stopped thinking. He was blocking and casting hexes as the bathroom broke into pieces around him. Someone was screaming, but they didn’t exist. Nothing existed but him and his victim, and he couldn’t allow himself to think. All the training during the summer came down to that._  
 _“Cruci...”, he begun, but Potter was faster._  
 _“SECTUMSEMPRA”_  
 _The pain was worse than anything he had ever experienced before, and he could see own blood  spurting out of him as he staggered backwards and fell to the floor._  
  
Harry woke up screaming. He panted heavily as he sat up in the bed, feeling adrenaline pumping through his veins.  
  
“It can’t be...”, he said to himself. “There’s no way he’d...is there?”  
  
Harry was interrupted in his thoughts by footsteps coming down the stairs. He reached for his glasses and had just put them on as Draco appeared. The expression on his face was one of barely contained anger.  
  
“I just had the strangest dream, Harry.”, he said, his voice shaking. “I believe I was crying, and you tried to kill me!”  
  
Harry stared at him in disbelief, and suddenly started laughing. It was a hollow, humourless laugh, and Harry could see it scared Draco, but he couldn’t stop. The situation was too absurd. It was ridiculous, yet here was the proof. Just when he thought his world couldn’t get any weirder.  
  
“I’m sorry.”, Harry said once he’d calmed down. “I believe I just had the same dream. Or rather memory. I wasn’t trying to kill you, I didn’t know what that spell would do.”  
  
Draco eyed him warily, but took a few steps closer to him.  
  
“How could we have the same dream?”, he asked.  
  
“That is a good question.”, Harry said. “And I believe there’s only one answer.”  
  
He looked at Draco intently. “I’m the one who has your memories.”  
  
“That doesn’t make any sense!”, Draco said, confused. ”You said we were enemies. I just _saw you almost kill me_! Why would I give my memories to _you_?”  
  
“I have no idea.”, Harry said, shaking his head. “I suppose I’ll ask you, once you get them back. I need to contact Hermione.”  
  
Harry walked over to the fireplace and flooed Hermione. Once he’d woken her up, their conversation was short and soon she stepped out of the fireplace, dressed in a lavender blue nightgown and ash in her hair. She had a vial of potion in her hand.  
  
“You’re absolutely sure about this, Harry?”, she asked. “You really have his memories?”  
  
“We just had the same dream. The Sectumsempra-incident from sixth year.”, Harry said, and Hermione paled. She turned to Draco.  
  
“You do know he wasn’t trying to hurt you, right?”, she said, sounding concerned. “He didn’t know what that spell was going to do. And he was so sorry afterwards.”  
  
“So he says.”, Draco said, seemingly a little more relaxed now. Hermione turned back to Harry.  
  
“Apart from the nightmares you had no idea you were the one?”, Hermione asked, having apparently already connected his complaints about nightmares from before he went to America to this. Harry shook his head.  
  
“I had no idea. I felt nothing.”, he said.  
  
“Then we have a bit of a problem with the cure.”, Hermione said, and Harry and Draco stared at her.  
  
“Please don’t say that.”, Draco said, pleadingly, and Harry nodded silently in agreement. To their relief, Hermione smiled reassuringly.  
  
“Don’t worry, it’ll work, it just takes more time.”, she said. “It seems your magic is very similar to Harry’s, Draco. That’s why he’s unable to tell it apart from his own.”  
  
“Why is that a problem?”, Draco asked.  
  
“Usually, when the person who has the magic of another person drinks the potion, the other person’s magic returns while the drinker’s remain intact. However, if Harry were to drink the full dose there is a risk that all magic in him would flow over to you, leaving him as void of magic as you are now.”  
  
Hermione held up the vial in her hand.  
  
“Therefore, the best way would be to take it one step at a time. There are about forty drops in this vial. Four drops every fortnight should be a pretty risk-free dosage. Any more or any more often could be dangerous.”  
  
“You’re saying this is going to take _twenty weeks?_ ”, Harry exclaimed. Hermione looked frustrated.  
  
“I’m sorry.”, she said. “There are not much information available on this potion. It’s the only way I...”  
  
“It’s ok.”, Draco interrupted her, and she gave him a surprised look. “I’ll get my memories back. A few hours ago we had no way to do that, but now we do. Who cares if it takes time? ”  
  
Hermione smiled at him.  
  
“You know, Draco.”, she said. ”This may not be the best time for this, but Ron and I are getting married in a month. You are invited to the wedding, if you still want to come once you get your memories back.”  
  
Draco blinked, obviously a bit taken back by the sudden invitation. Then he smiled.  
  
“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be honoured.”, he said. Hermione gave him a sad smile, clearly not as convinced. Harry really didn’t think Draco Malfoy, even if he didn’t have all his memories yet, would be caught dead at Ron Weasley’s wedding. He didn’t dare hope Draco had changed that much.  
  
“Shall we, then?”, Hermione said and walked over to Harry, gesturing for him to open his mouth. “You might pass out, so I’ll do the honours.”  
  
Harry did as he was told, and Hermione let four drops of potion fall into his mouth. Harry briefly though it tasted worse than Polyjuice-potion, then the world went black.


	8. Draco

Harry moaned slightly as he opened his eyes and sat up. Hermione was sitting in the armchair, apparently reading through the cooking notes Draco had made earlier. She looked up at Harry with a smile.

“Good, you’re awake.” she said.

“How long was I out of it?” Harry asked, a bit disoriented.

“Barely ten minutes.” Hermione answered, putting the notes back on the table. “Draco is still unconscious.”

Harry walked over to Draco, a little worried. He wondered again what he was going to be like when he woke up. Draco wouldn’t have all his memories yet, just a fraction of them, but he would still be more Draco Malfoy than he had been in years. Would he act like it as well?

Harry was still leaning over him as Draco stirred and then slowly opened his eyes. He stared at Harry for a few moments before he spoke.

“Potter.” he said, and Harry felt his heart crash against the bottom of his stomach and scatter into a million pieces. One word, his own last name, and all of Harry vain hopes of “could be”s were lost.

Harry took a step back as Draco sat up. He looked around, his face unreadable. When Draco turned towards Hermione, Harry could see her brace herself.

“Thank you, Granger. I’m in your debt.” Draco said. His voice was matter-of-factly, without a hint of ridicule, and both Harry and Hermione stared at him for a moment.

“Um...you’re welcome.” Hermione said, sounding a bit unsure. “How much do you remember?”

“Mostly the things Potter told me about. Bits and pieces here and there.” Draco said, frowning. “I remember _having_ memories about a lot of things, people and places, but not the memories themselves.”

Hermione nodded.

“It will get better later on.” she said, sympathetically.

“I know.” Draco answered, getting up.

“Well, I should get going.” Hermione said, doing the same. “Let me know if something happens.”

“I will. Thank you, Hermione.” Harry said, smiling at her. She smiled back and started walking towards the fireplace.

“One moment, Granger.” Draco said, having apparently caught his own reflection in the screen of the turned-off television. He was frowning at it. “Before you go, do you think you could do something about my hair? I look terrible.”

Harry snickered as Hermione walked over to Draco, wand in hand.

“I told you so.” Harry said. Hermione cast a spell at Draco’s hair, and the dye was gone.

“Thank you.” he told her again, and she smiled at him.

“See you two later.” she said, then she flooed away and Harry and Draco were left alone again.

There was an awkward silence for a while, then Harry turned to Draco to ask something he really wanted to know, even if he wasn’t sure which answer he wanted.

“Why did you choose me?” he asked. Draco looked at him, his face unreadable.

“I don’t remember.” he said. Harry frowned at him, trying his hardest to figure out whether he was lying or not. He quickly found it to be impossible, so he gave up to address another issue.

“You’ll still be staying here, right? You barely have any magic yet, and it’s not safe for you out there.” Harry said, neglecting to mention that he really wanted him to stay. Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

“Why, Potter, I didn’t know you cared.” he said. Harry resisted the sudden urge to punch him.

Draco must have seen the anger in Harry’s face. He sighed.

“Yes, I’ll stay. It’s not like I’m welcome anywhere else, the letters from today were proof of that.” he said, sounding tired, and Harry felt his anger disappear.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said, and Draco scowled at him.

“Don’t be.” he said. “I’m thankful you’re letting me stay, but I don’t want sympathy, Potter. Not from you.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he stayed quiet for a while. Then he looked at the clock on the wall.

“There are still a few hours left until morning.” he said. “I think I’m going to go back to bed.”

Draco nodded.

“Good night, then.” he said, the turned around and disappeared up the stairs. Harry watched him go, and was struck by the fact that he seemed to walk taller now, his back straight and his head held higher. Harry sighed as he walked back to his own bed, fearing that the Draco he’d lived with the last week was gone forever.

 

The house was eerily quiet when Harry woke up. He had gotten used to hearing Draco mess around in the kitchen first thing in the morning, and now he really missed the sound. Some small part of him had hoped the practice would continue even after last night, but Harry supposed it had been a stupid thing to ask for. Draco Malfoy was above doing such things as cooking, after all. Harry should have known this.

Feeling rather depressed, Harry got up and went upstairs to use the bathroom. He had expected Draco to be awake, like he’d been pretty much every morning until then, but as Harry entered the bedroom he realised he’d been wrong. Draco was still sleeping, tangled up in the sheets and with a small frown on his face. It was nearly ten o’clock already, but Harry didn’t have the heart to wake him. Instead he tried to be as quiet as possible as he made his way to the bathroom.

When he was finished Harry went down to make breakfast. Looking into his fridge, he realised he should probably have paid better attention last time he and Draco went shopping for food, because he didn’t recognise half of the products. Feeling a bit confused, Harry settled for toast, as it seemed the easiest solution. Seeing how he had no idea what Draco would like, especially not now, Harry just put a lot of different things forth on the table, so he could choose himself when he woke up.

Biting into his toast, Harry wondered to himself how he could have been satisfied with this for years, considering how tasteless it seemed now. Harry was seriously considering starting to watch cooking programs and taking notes as Draco had done when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Draco entered the kitchen, already fully dressed. Harry suspected he had purposely chosen the darkest of the clothes they had bought the first day. The clothes matched the circles under Draco’s eyes. He really looked tired.

“Good morning.” Harry greeted. “Eat some breakfast.”

Draco sat down on the opposite side of the table, eying the mess that was on it.

“Seems like I’ll have to continue to do the cooking if I want decent food.” he said, and Harry almost got a piece of toast stuck in his throat when he realised Draco was actually smiling.

It wasn’t the carefree, easy smile from yesterday. This smile was complex, hard to read and a bit tired, but it was just as genuine. Harry caught himself thinking, again, that it was beautiful. Then the words registered, and Harry blushed.

“I didn’t know what you like.” he defended himself. “So I took out everything.”

“Thus proving my point.” Draco said, and started making a toast for himself. Harry watched fascinated as he combined different things Harry hadn’t even thought of to make a toast that looked just as delicious as the one he had had the other day. Draco noticed him watching, and raised an eyebrow at him. Harry looked down at his own miserable toast and resolutely took a bite, not wanting to give Draco right. Draco smirked, but didn’t comment.

Harry finished breakfast earlier than Draco, who seemed to have gained table manners during the night and was therefore taking his time, so he went into the living room to and turned on the television. It was showing some kind of cartoon, a cat and a mouse running around doing stupid things. Harry vaguely remembered it from his childhood, having hid behind the sofa so the Dursley’s wouldn’t notice him watching.

“Tom and Jerry, Potter, seriously?” came a drawl from behind him. Harry turned around to see Draco sit down in the armchair, an amused smirk on his face.

“Shut up, Draco.” Harry said, without malice. “Also, could you please call me Harry? We’ve been living together for a week already and it feels weird to suddenly be back to last names.”.

Draco blinked, looking a bit surprised. Harry suspected he hadn’t even realised he was doing it.

“Old habits die hard.” Draco said. “Fine, Harry it is then.”

Harry smiled at him and turned back to the television, where the cat was chasing the mouse again. After a while he felt Draco’s eyes on him. Looking back, he realised Draco seemed a bit troubled.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“What happened to my parent’s money?” he asked, and Harry was taken back, really not expecting that, though he supposed he should have. “I mean, I remember we were rich, but I can’t recall the details. Did we have it in a bank somewhere or did the Ministry confiscate it or what happened to it?”

“It’s probably still at Gringott’s, the bank. Your key is at the Ministry, though.” Harry said. “I made sure they couldn’t use any money before your death was confirmed.”  
.  
“Thank you” Draco said, sounding surprised.

“It’s ok, they seemed a bit too eager to use it, is all.” Harry said. “We can go get the key later if you want to, but it won’t be a pleasant trip.”

“I know, but I want to.” Draco said, looking down at his hands. “I can’t keep living off your money.”

“I really don’t mind.” Harry said. He hadn’t even considered the money-issue. Even without a job, he had enough money left to last the rest of his life. Supporting someone else wasn’t a problem, in fact, Harry had rather enjoyed it.

“Of course you don’t. You’re Harry Potter, saviour of all things small and helpless and are suffering from a serious hero-syndrome.” Draco drawled. “But I do. Mind.”

Harry made a face at him, but he did understand where he was coming from. He sighed.

“Fine, we’ll head over to the Ministry and Diagon Alley later.” he said.

“Also, could you give me back my old wand?” Draco asked.

“Sure.” Harry said, getting up to fetch it from the cupboard he’d put it in after Ron’s and Hermione’s visit. He handed it over to Draco.

“You know you probably won’t be able to use it yet?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded.

“I know.” he said. “But the people at the Ministry don’t, right?”

“What are you planning?” Harry asked, his eyes narrowed as he studied the man in front of him. Draco rolled his eyes.

“For once, nothing.” he said. “But I don’t want to go into the Ministry completely defenseless. With this, at least I can bluff.”

Harry stared at him for a moment, realising how vulnerable Draco must feel. He had said he didn’t want sympathy, but Harry couldn’t help feeling for him.

“Don’t worry, I’m coming with you.” Harry said. “They won’t dare to try anything if I’m there.”

“Right, because you’re Harry Potter.” Draco repeated, this time almost spitting as he said the name.

“Yes, because I’m Harry Potter, and being Harry Potter has its peaks.” Harry said, irritated. “Which you should be thankful for right now. Let’s go.”

Harry walked over to the fireplace.

“Do you remember how to use the floo?” Harry asked. Draco looked thoughtful for a minute.

“Yes, I think so.” he answered. Harry nodded, taking some powder and walking into the fire.

“The Ministry of Magic.” he said, and traveled.

Harry had time to get a little bit worried that Draco had gotten lost while waiting, but soon he appeared, brushing some ashes out of his hair.

“I hate that system.” he said as Harry walked up to him, and Harry chuckled.

“Because of the ashes?” Harry guessed. Draco made a face at him, then looked around. His expression became painful.

“I don’t remember this place at all.” he said.

“Don’t worry, I know where to go.” Harry reassured him. Draco started to say something, but was interrupted by a sudden flash from a camera. Harry turned around and realised they had an audience.

“Come on.” he said, gesturing for Draco to follow him as he hurriedly walked away from there. Behind him somebody shouted for an interview.

Even though he had been famous for what seemed like forever, Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever been stared and pointed at as much at that day. Most of the looks were angry or suspicious, and even though, or maybe because, he knew the looks were directed at Draco rather than himself, they made him angry. Still, nobody tried to stop them.

***

Less than an hour later they exited the ministry with the key. It had been surprisingly easy but every single person they had talked to had still made their opinion very clear. It felt weird that most of them were people Harry had worked with as an Auror, and he had never detected any hostility in them before. Some of them had practically worshiped him. Now, things were quite different.

Draco had figured, and Harry had agreed, that it was probably best to get all the nasty stuff done as soon as possible, so from the Ministry they went directly to Diagon Alley. The streets were quite busy, and so they had to endure another round of stares and whispers as they made their way to Gringotts’ bank. Harry was a bit relieved to see that the goblins didn’t bat an eyelid over the fact that Draco was back. However, they didn’t seem overly enjoyed by the rather large sum of money he took out from the Malfoy vault. Harry really didn’t see the problem. Even after Draco had made his withdrawal there were at least twice as much left as Harry had in his.

After Draco had exchanged about half of the galleons into pounds they exited the bank.

“So, where to, then?” Harry asked. Draco looked down at himself, fingering his jacket with a thoughtful face.

“I need a new wardrobe.” he said. Harry laughed a bit, though he wasn’t sure he was looking forward to going shopping for clothes with Draco again. He had been picky enough last time.

“Well, Madame Malkin’s is just down the road.” Harry said, starting to walk. Draco grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“What?” he asked.

“Not here.” Draco said. “I don’t fancy trying on clothes near people who wants to kill me.”

Harry studied him for a moment. Draco looked even more tired now than he had this morning.

“Where do you want to go then?” Harry asked.

“I heard Oxford street is the place to go.”

 

Harry had been a bit surprised by the fact that Draco still wanted to buy muggle clothes. He had not, however, been surprised that it took forever to find anything Draco liked. Harry wasn’t much help, of course. After the first few times Draco tried something on and Harry just said “Yeah, it looks good.”, Draco stopped even pretending to include Harry in his decisions. Harry really couldn’t help it. He knew he’d never had much of a fashion sense, and it was his honest opinion that Draco looked good in anything he tried. Draco obviously didn’t think that was enough.

“Seriously, Harry, go take a coffee or something.” Draco told him sometime after the first two hours. “You look like you’re going to faint.”

“You sure you’re gonna be alright?” Harry asked, thankful for the chance to get away from the clothing stores, but a bit worried about leaving Draco alone. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Harry, we’re in Muggle London. In the middle of the day.” he said. “The worst thing that can happen is some shop clerk getting mad at me for leaving a mess in the fitting rooms.”

“Fine. I’ll be just across the street if you need me. Come there when you’re ready.” Harry said, and left Draco scrutinising two identical turtlenecks in the shop. He walked across the street and sunk down in a chair at the café, completely exhausted. Really, compared to shopping with Draco, fighting dark wizards were nothing. Harry ordered a ridiculously expensive cup of coffee while he waited for Draco to get ready.

Three cups of coffee and a piece of chocolate cake later Draco finally turned up. He was carrying a rather impressive amount of bags.

“I take it you finally found something, then.” Harry said, a bit relieved. “No angry shop clerks attacked you, I take it?”

“No, but one of them tried giving me his phone number.” Draco smirked. “You ready to go?”

“I was ready hours ago.” Harry said, ignoring the comment about the shop clerk.

There was a letter waiting at the table when they got home. Draco disappeared upstairs with his bags while Harry read it:

_Dear Harry,_

_Been a while. Been reading about you in the papers. Awful stuff they’ve been writing.  
You’d like to come over for tea tomorrow? You can bring Malfoy if that much’s true._

_All the best,  
Hagrid_

Hagrid. Harry smiled. It had really been too long since they’d last met. He really ought to go visit him before school started. He was a bit worried about Draco, though. Sure, Hagrid had written he could bring him, but that was probably because he was curious about the rumours and wanted to show his support if they were true. But bringing Draco over to Hagrid’s for tea... Harry just didn’t think it would go well.

“”Why the face, Pot...Harry?” Draco said, having apparently finished packing up. Harry pointed at the letter.

“Hagrid wants us to come over for tea tomorrow.” he said. Draco gave him a blank look.

“I should probably know who that is, shouldn’t I?” he said, and Harry mentally slapped himself. Of course Draco didn’t remember Hagrid.

“He was gatekeeper and a teacher at Hogwarts.” Harry explained.”Also, he’s a good friend of mine.”

“You should go see him then.” Draco said, preoccupied with taking things out of the fridge. It dawned on Harry that Draco was actually going to make dinner again. Harry knew he had said as much that morning, but Harry hadn't really dared to believe it. A smile spread over his face as he continued:

“The invitation includes both of us, Draco.” he said.

“Fine.” Draco said, turning on the stove. “Now either sit down or get out of the kitchen. You’re in the way.”

After a moment of mental debate Harry decided to sit down to watch Draco cook. He had done that a couple of times over the last week, of course, but somehow it felt different today. Probably because he’d thought he’d never see it again.

Draco didn’t seem to care about having an audience, but he didn’t sing or hum as he had before. Harry kind of wished he would. It had been a pleasant sound, and it had made Draco seem more relaxed.

Dinner was as good as always, and Harry really wished he hadn’t eaten that chocolate cake earlier so he would have room for more now. Afterwards Harry leaned back in his chair with a hand on his stomach, feeling really full.

“Hey, wanna watch a movie or something?” he asked. Draco looked up at him, not answering immediately.

“...Sure.” he said finally, and Harry smiled at him. He felt ridiculously happy because of that simple word, because it meant things weren’t as different as they had first seemed.

Draco sat down in the armchair as Harry chose the movie of the night and put it in the player. Draco raised an eyebrow at him as the film begun to roll.

“ _Moulin Rouge_ , Harry?” he asked. Harry frowned at him.

“What’s wrong with that? It seemed interesting.” he said, a little defensively..

“Oh, it is.” Draco smirked. “I expect you’ll probably cry, though.”

“Shut up, Draco.” Harry said, leaning back, feeling quite comfortable.

 

***

“I still can’t believe you bawled like a girl!”

“Just shut up already, Malfoy.”

“Fine, _Potter_.”

Harry had in fact cried. A lot. And ever since breakfast this morning Draco had been making fun of him for it. Not even as they were walking along the road up from Hogsmeade towards Hogwarts did he leave Harry alone.

As they closed in on the castle, however, Draco became silent. Harry looked back over his shoulder and saw him staring at it in awe.

“You don’t remember it all that well, do you?”

“No, not really. Just... a castle. It’s quite impressive in reality.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

They walked the rest of the way to Hagrid’s cottage in silence and Harry found himself getting quite nervous. Hagrid’s letter had been wonderfully accepting, but as there really wasn’t anything to accept Harry had a feeling some awkward situations were coming up.

Hagrid opened the door almost instantly as Harry knocked. He greeted Harry with a large smile and a big, warm hug. As he let go of Harry, turned to Draco and gave him just as warm a hug. Harry wondered how he could ever have doubted coming here. If not for anything else, Draco’s face as Hagrid let go of him was worth all the galleons in Harry’s vault.

“Let’s head ‘nside, th’ kettle’s already on.”

Hagrid held the door open for them and as Harry stepped inside he pulled out the bag of pumpkin pastries they’d bought in Hogsmeade before heading up. When Harry had said it was an attempt to avoid Hagrid’s infamous rock cakes Draco had laughed. A small smile tugged at his own lips as he thought of that.

“We brought something to eat with the tea, hope you don’t mind.”

As they sat down around the large table and were served hot cups of tea Harry sent a quick encouraging smile in Draco’s direction. Harry had already spent enough time with him to see that he was feeling quite disoriented, but he was putting up a good facade. Finally Hagrid sat down with them.

“Tell m’ Harry, what ye’v been up tah.”

So Harry did just that. Told Hagrid everything all the way from the beginning and at first Draco was quietly listening while sipping his tea but soon he started to slip in small additional comments, usually to Harry’s embarrassment. (“He barged in like a madman, seriously.” and “Didn’t think of transfiguring the sofa into a bed either.”)

Hagrid was listening silently through the whole story. When Harry was finished he got up to refill their tea cups. He looked mildly curious.

“So, are ye together or no?” Hagrid asked. Harry felt himself blush as he choked on the pumpkin pastry. He had expected the question, but he had sort of hoped his explanation had made it unnecessary. Apparently not.

Draco gave Harry a unreadable look before answering in his stead.

“No, we’re not,” he said. “I’m just staying at his place at the moment. He likes to take care of people.”

“Yea, I guess ‘e does.” Hagrid smiled, and Harry tried to figure out whether he was relieved or not. It was kind of hard, considering he had his back turned as he put the tea pot back on the stove.

“And so do you, I hear. Well, creatures rather than people.” Draco said, smoothly turning the conversation away from the earlier subject. “You take care of those things I saw in your backyard, right. What were they?”

“They’re fire-crabs. I’m keepin’ them for the fourth years.” Hagrid said, a little suspiciously. Harry could understand that. Draco and creatures was not a good combination in Hagrid’s book.

“They looked interesting, if a little dangerous.” Draco said. “Do wizards keep them as pets?”

Harry wasn’t sure if Draco was genuinely interested or if he was just trying to get Hagrid to like him. If so, then it was working. Harry could see Hagrid was happy to tell him all about the fire crabs, and he was positively beaming when Draco asked him to tell him about the other creatures he took care of as well. Harry smiled into his tea cup, tuning out the conversation.

All in all the visit was a success and as they both received their second hugs of the day both Harry and Draco were smiling. Harry was relieved by how well things had gone and telling someone about everything had felt wonderful.

 

The next few days passed without anything special happening. Harry was getting used to waking up to the smell of breakfast, and got to enjoy home made dinner most of the nights. They did go out a couple of times as well. Harry was feeling quite content with the situation, except...

There were a few things he missed from before Draco got his memories back. Firstly, there was the singing as Draco cooked. It wasn’t as if Draco had a really great voice, but it was pleasant enough and Harry had enjoyed listening to it. Secondly, Draco had seemed much more lighthearted before. He still smiled and laughed more in a day than Harry had seen him do in six years at Hogwarts, but he was moodier and he wasn’t around Harry all the time anymore either. They still spent a lot of time together, of course, but sometimes Draco would just disappear and Harry would find him reading a book in the bedroom, looking distant. On one such occasion Harry had asked him what was up.

“Nothing much.” Draco answered, looking up from _the Tales of Beedle the Bard_.

“Then why do you look like that?” Harry said, a little concerned.

“I always look like this.” Draco scowled. “This is my face, can’t change that.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and sat down on the bed beside him, not buying it. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Fine. It’s this book.” Draco said, pointing at _the Tales of Beedle the Bard_. “I remember the tales from when I was a child, but that’s pretty much the only thing I remember from my childhood.”

Harry nodded slowly, understanding. Draco looked away.

“I don’t even remember the faces of my parents.”

Harry’s heart ached with sympathy in that moment. He remembered how it had felt for him, all those years ago, not knowing anything about his parents. That had been bad enough, but this was different. Draco’s parents had been alive his whole childhood, and now he couldn’t remember them. Harry really wanted to give Draco a hug and tell him it was going to be ok. Had it been Ron or Hermione, he would have, but Draco probably wouldn’t appreciate it. In fact, Draco was looking at him like he would punch him if he tried.

“I don’t want sympathy, Harry. I told you that.” he said quietly. “You asked and I answered, that’s all.”

“I understand.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out some way to cheer Draco up. He was coming up blank. After a while, Draco sighed and put down the book.

“Alright, let’s go rent a movie.” he said, sounding like he was trying to cheer up Harry rather than himself.

“You sure?” Harry asked. Watching movies together in the evenings had become a daily routine, but this was the first time since Draco got his memories back he’d suggested it himself.

“Just no more chick-flicks, _please_!” Draco said, the smirk returning to his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay. Sometimes real life happens unexpectedly. Anyway, enjoy! The next one will be up in a week or so.


	9. Birthdays and Bathrooms

The thirtieth of July, about a week after Draco’s memories returned, two letters arrived. One was from Molly Weasley, wanting to confirm the dinner the following evening. Harry’s birthday dinner. Harry had completely forgotten about it.

“We’re going to the Weasley’s for dinner tomorrow.” he told Draco, who was currently reading one of the books on arithmancy Harry had gotten from Hermione at some point. Harry doubted he understood much of it, considering his memory loss. Harry certainly hadn’t understood it, and he had all his memories intact.

“Both of us?” Draco asked looking up from the book. Harry nodded.

“Yes, she’s invited you as well. You’ll like her, she’s nice.”

Harry didn’t tell him about the fact that they were celebrating his birthday tomorrow. He had forgotten about it, after all, and he didn’t think it would be fair to tell him now, in case Draco felt obligated to do something. Also, Harry thought it was better not to tell him, so he himself wouldn’t expect something and end up disappointed.

When Harry looked at the second letter, he was surprised to see it wasn’t addressed to him, but to Draco. He eyed it suspiciously, knowing Draco had gotten some hate-mail earlier. He handed it to Draco anyhow. Draco looked confused as opened the letter and read it. Harry watched him the whole time, hoping the letter wouldn’t contain anything that would hurt him.

It didn’t seem like it did. When Draco was finished reading, he looked up at Harry with a pleasantly puzzled expression.

“Read it,” he said, handing Harry the letter. “Then tell me who the guy is.”

_Dear Draco,_

_I just saw you in last week's Prophet with Potter. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were alive all this time. I know you had to hide and everything, but you could at least have let me know you you weren’t dead! I’ve mourned your death for over four years, and then you just turn up in the papers!  
As you probably know, I live in Germany nowadays, but I will be visiting London in about a month. Please tell me we can catch up then.  
I’ve really missed you._

_Forever Yours,  
Blaise Zabini_

Harry reread the letter a couple of times, trying to comprehend what it said. He didn’t remember Draco and Zabini ever being close at Hogwarts, but then again, he hadn’t really cared at the time. And this letter clearly proved they had indeed been friends. Harry swallowed as he looked at the signature. Maybe even more than friends.

“Harry?” Draco asked, looking at him with an unsure expression. Harry tried to smile at him, but feared it ended up looking like a grimace. His stomach felt funny.

“Oh, Zabini was one of your housemates at Hogwarts. I suppose you were friends.”, he said. “Right. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Harry, wait. What do I write back?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you want.” Harry said, not turning around to look at him as he fled up the stairs.

***

 _Harry Potter is a brat_ , Draco thought as he browsed through the fruit to find something edible to put in the shopping basket. _A stupid, childish, fucking brat_.

Harry had locked himself in the bathroom immediately after reading the letter from Blaise Zabini. Draco had tried to ask him what was wrong, but Harry hadn’t answered. So Draco had given the poor bathroom door a piece of his mind before storming out of the house. He had walked around aimlessly for a while, vaguely hoping to meet someone he could start a fight with. As that seemed futile, Draco had resolutely decided to go grocery shopping instead.

He knew he shouldn’t leave the apartment alone, of course, but another minute dealing with Harry’s childish displays would have driven him crazy. Harry had no reason whatsoever to be sulking again. So Draco had gotten a letter from an old friend, why the fuck was that so bad? Draco didn’t even remember him.

 _If anyone should be sulking, it should be me_ , Draco thought, glaring at the small brown spot on the apple he was holding. _But noooo, The-boy-who-sulked locks himself in the bathroom and refuses to answer. Very mature. Worthy behavior from the world's savior._  
Draco put the apple back, giving up trying to find any decent ones. It was only minutes before the store closed after all, so all the good ones were already gone. Draco made his way towards the cashier, stopping briefly by the candy shelf to pick up some chocolate. Chocolate was good for cheering people up, and, as the anger faded, Draco was starting to feel really depressed about the whole thing.

He paid for the groceries and exited the store, his mind wandering. Maybe Harry actually had a reason to sulk. He had asked Draco to stay, and seemed to have fun while they were together, so Draco had assumed everything was alright. Hell, he had tried his best to _make_ it alright. But maybe Harry didn’t want him there, maybe he was just forcing himself because helping the helpless was what Harry Potter did. And Draco was helpless. Before getting his memories back, he hadn’t really felt that way, but now he remembered enough to know he was just that: helpless. Completely at the mercy of Harry Potter for months to come.

The thought should have made him furious, but Draco was surprised when he just got more depressed. As he caught a movement in the corner of his eyes and turned around, he realised why.

“Fuck!” Draco swore under his breath. Two dementors had appeared behind the store and were making their way towards him, barely twenty meters away. Draco felt cold ice in his chest as he turned around to run.

***

Harry splashed his face with water for the hundredth time, trying to clear his head. So, maybe Zabini and Draco had been together in the past, maybe not. It didn’t really matter, did it? That was years ago, and Draco hadn’t remembered him, so he couldn’t have been as important to Draco as...

_His parents, who he also don’t remember._

Ok, so maybe the memories didn’t return in a order of priority. Harry used a nearby towel to dry his face. But Draco had still given his memories to Harry, not Zabini. That had to mean something.

_But according to Pansy Draco wouldn’t have wanted to put any of his friends in danger._

Harry shook his head. So Draco was fine with putting Harry in danger, then. Not that it had been dangerous, but still...

_Why do I even care? It’s none of my business!_

Harry sighed and opened the door, letting himself out of the bathroom. He knew perfectly well why he cared. He couldn’t even deny it anymore. He looked longingly at his own empty bed, the bed where Draco now slept every night. He remembered Draco’s sleeping face so clearly. Draco’s sleepy voice asking him what time it was. Draco’s sad face as he read _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. Draco’s angry yell coming through the bathroom door. Draco’s...

_Draco’s being too quiet._

Harry as he run down the stairs. A cold fear splashed over him, clearing his mind much better than the water had. Draco was nowhere to be found. Harry tried fruitlessly to call his name a few times. Then he went out, not realising until he was outside on the sidewalk that he was still in his slippers. Harry ignored this. At least he had remembered his wand.

“Draco!” Harry yelled, to no avail. Then he reactivated the spell that had allowed him to find Draco in San Francisco. Not caring about the possible consequences, he apparated.

Harry barely had time to realise where he was before he was knocked to the ground. Someone had run into him, and both of them had fallen. A glimpse of impossibly blond hair told him it was Draco.

“What the fuck! Harry!” Draco swore as he struggled back on his feet. “Quick! Stag! Now!”

“What?” Harry asked as he sat up. His eyes widened as he saw two dark shapes behind Draco. In the back of his head the screaming started, but Draco’s panicked voice drowned the memories.

“The stag! Get rid of those things!”

“EXPECTO PATRONUM” Harry yelled. As the stag chased the dementors away, Harry turned towards Draco. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, running away again?”

Draco made a face at him and bent down to pick up something from the ground.

“I wasn’t running away, you prat.” he said, holding up a shopping bag. “You locked yourself in the bathroom, so I went shopping.”

He made it sound like a perfectly logical thing to do. Harry stared at him, his anger fading.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Harry said. “You should have left a note or something!”

“Well, good thing I didn’t, right?” Draco said, giving Harry a pale smirk. Then he tossed Harry a chocolate bar from the bag. “Just bought those. I think I may be psychic.”

“Psychotic, maybe.” Harry said, walking over to Draco. “Let’s go home.”

Harry apparated them to the alley near his apartment and they went inside. As they entered the apartment, Draco gave Harry’s slippers a long look. Harry blushed.

“I was worried, ok?” he said, flustered. Draco gave him a small smile.

“Nice to know you care, I guess.” he said, going into the kitchen to put the groceries away. Harry followed him.

“Never do something like that again.”, he said. “It’s not safe.”

“I noticed.” Draco said, shutting the door to the fridge and turning towards Harry. “Which makes me wonder why they want me dead so badly. I doubt today was a coincidence. They must have waited for me to be alone.”

Harry hadn’t really given it much thought, just assumed the Mudbloods were trying to finish what they started, but he realised Draco was right. They must have waited for this to happen. And in San Francisco as well. It seemed like a lot of trouble just to tidy up a loose end. Maybe there was something more to it.

 

There were no sounds coming from the kitchen when Harry woke up the following morning. For a brief moment Harry was scared Draco had been stupid enough to go out again, but then he heard the sound of footsteps coming from upstairs. Yawning, Harry wondered whether he had missed breakfast or woken up too early. He got up and made his way to the kitchen in order to find out.

Harry stopped in the doorway, gaping at the sight before him. On the kitchen table, instead of an ordinary breakfast there stood a cake. A cake made of pancakes. On it was written “Happy birthday, Harry!” in maple syrup. Harry couldn’t believe his eyes.

“I’m not gonna sing for you, so you might as well start eating.” came a dry voice from behind him. Harry turned around to see Draco looking at him with a smug expression on his face.

“How...” Harry began, then choked up and had to clear his throat. “How did you know?”

“Psychic, remember?” Draco smirked. “Also Granger might have mentioned it.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but he felt really happy. He had not expected this. He had not expected anything.

“Thank you.” Harry said, smiling at Draco.

“Don’t thank me just yet.” Draco said, suddenly seeming a bit nervous. Harry looked questioned at him as Draco reached into his pocket and took out a small gift wrapped box.

“Don’t kill me for this, but it was a short notice and for once I was out of ideas.” he said, handing the box to Harry who accepted it without hesitating.

Harry looked curiously at the small box as he started to open it. He noticed that Draco was watching him, his expression somewhere between a smirk and a nervous grin. Harry wasn’t sure whether or not to be worried.

He unwrapped the paper to find a small jewelry box. He opened it, more curious than ever... and just stared. He recognised that necklace.

Harry looked up at Draco with wide eyes, not sure what to say. Draco shrugged.

“Hey, you said you liked it.” he said dismissively.

Harry took out the necklace from the box, holding it up to the light. It was an exact copy of the Evenstar-jewel as Harry remembered it from _the Lord of the Rings_ -films, except the flower shone green instead of white. He had said he liked it, but he had never expected Draco to buy it for him.

“Help me put it on.” Harry said. Draco raised an eyebrow at him, but got up and took the necklace. He stood right behind Harry reached out to put the jewel around his neck. Harry shivered slightly as the cold silver met his skin.

Draco took a step back and looked at him, eyebrow still raised.

“I knew it. You look ridiculous.” he smiled. Harry laughed as he got up to take a look at himself in the mirror in the hallway. Draco was right, Harry supposed as he studied his own reflection. He certainly didn’t look like Aragorn wearing the jewel, but the green colour matched his eyes rather nicely. And the necklace was beautiful. And Draco had given it to him. Even if it was meant as a joke, the gift made him incredibly happy.

“Thank you.” he said, turning around to smile at Draco. “I love it!”

“You’re welcome.” Draco said, and Harry wondered if the flash of pink he’d thought he’d seen on Draco’s face before he turned around was just his imagination. “And I’m expecting great things from you on Christmas. Now eat your cake.”

Harry followed him back into the kitchen, fingering the jewel around his neck and vaguely aware he was smiling like an idiot. This was shaping up to be the best birthday he’d ever had.

Or so Harry thought until the arrival of the owl post, namely a large pile of birthday cards. The pile was considerably smaller than last year, but that wasn’t what bothered him. The owls reminded him of the letter from the day before. He reluctantly looked up at Draco, who was at the moment going through considerable effort to stuff himself with pancakes in an aristocratic manner. Harry smiled despite himself.

“Draco, I was wondering,” he began, and Draco looked up from his plate. “Did you answer that letter from yesterday?”

“Yes, I did.” Draco said, turning his attention back to his pancakes. Harry frowned, a little annoyed with the short answer.

“What did you tell him?” Harry asked, trying not to sound suspicious or jealous or anything ridiculous like that. Draco looked at him again, his expression tired.

“The truth, more or less. That I’ve suffered a memory loss and only recently got some of my memories back, and that we’re working on restoring the rest of them.” he said, and then looked at Harry almost defiantly. “And that I would be happy to meet him when he comes, if he doesn’t mind me being a little short on memories.”

“Good, I’m sure meeting your old friends will be good for your memories.” Harry said, trying desperately to act like an adult, even though part of him kind of wanted to lock himself in the bathroom again. “Pansy Parkinson also said she wanted to meet you.”

“Let’s wait until next week and see if I remember her. “ Draco said, smiling a little. “Otherwise it will just be awkward.”

Harry laughed a little at that, and felt the tension disappear.

“Speaking of awkward, though, there is still the Weasley dinner tonight.” Draco said, making a face. “Do I really have to go? I don’t really remember them, but I know they don’t like me.”

Harry smiled at Draco, noticing how he’d said the Weasleys didn’t like him, not the other way around.

“That’s all in the past. It’ll be fine.” Harry said. “Trust me. They are my family, after all.”

“Yes, dinner with your family. Very romantic.” Draco muttered sarcastically as he got up to put his empty plate away. Harry was happy he had his back turned, as he felt himself blush slightly at the comment. It was partly true after all, he thought, watching Draco’s back while playing with the necklace Draco had given him. The Weasleys were his family, and Harry really wanted this dinner with them and Draco to go well. For more than one reason.

 

Afternoon arrived all too soon, and a long walk and a take-away lunch later he had to face the fact that it was less than two hours until they had to be at the Burrow. As the hours had gone by he’d slowly gotten more and more nervous. There was simply so much that could go wrong when taking a Malfoy to the Weasley headquarters, even if said Malfoy didn’t remember any animosity towards said Weasleys.

With a sigh he got up from the sofa and left Draco to watch the rest of _Matrix_ alone.

“I’ll go up and take a shower, don’t make yourself too fancy.”

“One can never be too fancy, Potter. But I’ll spare some fanciness for you this time, you need it.” Draco smirked without taking his eyes off the screen. Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself as he disappeared in through his bedroom.

The smile quickly disappeared as he took in the rumpled state of his bed. Not that he minded, it was just a bit too easy to imagine Draco on it. Harry quickly looked away and hurried into the bathroom as the memory of a naked Draco tangled into his sheets filled his mind. As he leaned against the inside of the bathroom door he felt himself getting hard.

_Just from the goddamn thought of Draco naked. Oh Merlin._

Well, there was really no point in denying it to himself anymore. He was undeniably attracted to Draco Malfoy. That game was long lost. But staying away from him when he was right there all the time would probably just get harder.

But Harry wouldn’t give in. It wasn’t fair, Draco still didn’t remember everything and even if he’d be interested now he most likely wouldn’t be once he got all his memories back.

_But Merlin, having him so close._

Harry thoughtfully stroked the necklace Draco had given him earlier. He was already getting quite used to it, and had been absent-mindedly playing with it almost the whole time while watching the movie, something Draco had pointed out to him with an amused smirk. It probably wasn’t a good idea to be wearing it to the Weasley’s, though. Harry reluctantly took off the the necklace and put it down, studying it carefully. Even if it had been meant as a joke, the gift was still proof that Draco cared.

Which made everything so much harder. Quite literally.

Harry remembered all too vividly the slight flush on Draco’s face as Harry opened the gift, Draco standing behind him while helping him to put the necklace on, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the other. Knees accidentally touching in the sofa, hands brushing against each other in the popcorn bowl. All those accidental little touches, and the biggest accident of them all. The Mistake. The Kiss That Shouldn’t Have Happened.

Harry swore under his breath. What the hell was he doing? They were supposed to be at the Burrows soon, and his body thought this, of all times, was an appropriate time for a wank?

It shouldn’t have been much of a problem, really. The bathroom was locked and magically soundproof unless he really _wanted_ to be heard, so nobody would know was he was up to. The problem would be looking into Draco’s eyes afterward. Which was why he had tried his hardest make do with ice cold showers up til now. This time, however...

Harry needed it, he knew that. Had been needing it for some time, and should have chosen a better opportunity for it. Not now, when he would need to be friendly and not awkward with Draco for the dinner at the Burrows.

 _But think about it, it’s the perfect chance!_ Harry’s mind tried to convince him. _Draco will think you’re just nervous about him meeting the Weasley’s, and there will be a lot of people there to distract you from him. By the time you get home things will be normal again!_

Harry wasn’t entirely convinced, but had to acknowledge that it was too late now anyway. His whole body ached as he took off his clothes, mentally envisioning it was Draco he was undressing instead and desperately trying to recall details of how his naked body had looked. Harry cursed himself for not taking a closer look at the time. And for buying Draco that pyjamas.

He could faintly hear Draco move around in the bedroom outside the door. It made him feel a bit guilty, even if he knew Draco couldn’t hear _him_. It didn’t diminish his arousal at all, though.  
 _He’s so close_ , Harry thought as he entered the shower. As the warm water started pouring down, it was easy for him to imagine Draco being even closer. The water turned into hands running over his body, the splashing sound into whispers in his ears. He could almost feel Draco behind him, could almost hear the sound of Draco’s voice, a neverending stream of words that said nothing and everything at the same time. It was so real, so intense, that Harry was almost surprised to see his own hand rather than Draco’s when he looked down.

His body’s reaction made clear just how much he had needed this, to indulge himself in a fantasy for a while. A fantasy that was very unlikely to come true. While remembering the taste of Draco’s lips and envisioning those lips on various parts of his body, Harry wondered, vaguely, if their kiss hadn’t been interrupted, what would have happened? Would Draco would have let him follow through? Harry thought he would have. It wouldn’t have been right, and Harry didn’t regret his decision, but right now, he allowed himself to envision it. What could have happened.

Harry closed his eyes and let himself go.

 

A while later, Harry walked out of the bathroom, fully dressed and feeling a lot better. He could hear Draco move around downstairs, he had probably already changed his clothes. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath ( _Come on, you can do this!_ ) then made his way downstairs.  
He found Draco in the living room, almost in the same spot Harry had left him. He was watching another cooking program, but wasn’t taking notes this time. Harry briefly wondered if Draco didn’t like the food being prepared on the screen. It didn’t look all that appealing to Harry either. Draco, however, did.

He had indeed changed his clothes, though they were all black again. Harry supposed he wasn’t actually dressed too fancy for the occasion, but there was something in the way he wore them that made clothes seem more fit for a formal gathering than a family dinner, even though the clothes themselves were rather plain. Harry mused that even the plaid shirts from San Francisco would look like a suit if Draco wore them now.

“Do you ever wear anything but black?” Harry asked with a smile.

“No.” Draco answered simply, turning his head away from the TV to look at Harry. Harry blushed a little when Draco’s gaze fell upon him, but it wasn’t such a strange thing to do, considering Draco was scrutinizing Harry’s choice of clothes with a raised eyebrow that seemed to say: _“You are a hundred years too early to start criticising my wardrobe. Where did you find that shirt? Burn it!”_

“Stop it, it’s just a family dinner.” Harry said, feeling a bit more exposed than he would have liked during the circumstances. Draco rolled his eyes.

“And there’s more where that came from.” he said. “You missed a phone call while you were showering. A guy called Dudley. Your cousin, apparently.”

“Dudley?” Harry repeated, dumbfounded, then mentally slapping himself. “Of course, should have expected it. What did he say?”

“He said he was going to be in London tomorrow, and asked if you wanted to meet up for a beer.” Draco answered, and Harry nodded. He and Dudley had been meeting up for beers every now and then for a couple of years, usually around the time of the other’s birthday or Christmas. It was great that he was getting along with what little there was left of his family, it really was, but Harry couldn’t look forward to meeting Dudley. It was always so _awkward_!

“Right.” Harry said. “I should phone him back.”

“No need, I took the liberty of agreeing for you. Four o’clock tomorrow at _the Hanged Man_.” Draco said casually, and Harry just stared at him. “”He invited me as well, actually, so I’ll be joining you.”

“Wait, what?” Harry said, vaguely remembering a nightmare from when he was twelve years old involving Draco and Dudley teaming up together against him. The dream had involved various torture devices, but not beer. The basic concept still scared him, though.

“Come on, we spend way too much time in this flat of yours as it is, and we’ve never just gone for a drink!” Draco said, almost pleading, and Harry knew he’d lost that conversation before it even started.

“Fine, fine. We’ll go.” Harry said, and Draco smiled beautifully at him. “We’d better get going. The Weasleys are expecting us.”

As Harry walked over to the fireplace to use the floo, something suddenly hit him. He looked over at Draco, who was standing behind him.

“Wait, who did you tell Dudley you were?” Harry asked, quite curious. Draco shrugged.

“I said ‘flatmate’.” he answered. ”Thought it was the easiest explanation.”

“Good, it’s pretty much true anyway.” Harry said, feeling strangely relieved and disappointed at the same time. He took a handful of floo powder from the pot and handed it to Draco, who was wearing a rather miserable expression.

“I’m going first.” Harry said, thinking it was probably better that way. “And don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.”

Harry tried to be reassuring, but Draco complete ignored him, his eyes fixed on the fireplace like he wanted it to disappear from his sight.

“I hate that system.” he said passionately. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Oh, behave.” he mused, and stepped into the fireplace.

“THE BURROWS!” Harry said, and disappeared into the flames.


	10. Dudley

Once Harry got through to the other side he brushed off the ashes stuck to his trousers. Over the last couple of years he’d finally learned to use the floo without falling over on arrival, but he still didn’t always get through completely clean.

Before he had time to react he was surrounded by Weasleys wishing him a happy birthday. Ginny hugged him tightly and Ron gave his back a brotherly birthday-smack. He instantly felt his anxieties melt away, right until Hermione reached him.

“Didn’t Draco come with you?”

Hurriedly Harry turned around to check only to see that the fireplace was still empty. Reacting on pure instinct he was just about reach for some floo powder when Draco appeared and literally fell out of the fireplace, almost gray from the ash covering him. Harry reached down to help him up and Draco took his hand without hesitation, despite looking quite embarrassed.

“You already had me worried.” Harry said, relieved.

“I really do hate that system.” Draco muttered.

Draco did his best to brush all the ashes off his clothes and Harry couldn’t resist helping him with some that had gotten stuck in his hair.

“I suppose you’ll remember your skills in flooing again sooner or later too,” Harry said with a small smile. It quickly widened when Draco smiled back but disappeared just as quickly when the sound of Hermione clearing her throat was heard somewhere behind them.

With an embarrassed smile Harry turned around to face them.  
“Well, he arrived. So yes, he came with me.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by Molly’s strong voice heading towards them with an almost frightening speed.

“Harry dear! You’re here! Happy birthday!”

Harry found himself engulfed in another bone-crushing hug and he hugged back, thanking her several times. After a little while he pulled back and gestured towards Draco.

“Molly, this is...”

“Ah yes! ...Draco is it, yes? Oh my, what happened to you, dear? The floo got you, did it? My, my, this memory loss must be hard on you! Come here, I’ll get you a towel so you can wash your face and hands if you want to and...”

Draco gave Harry a face that could only be described as “flabbergasted” when Molly started pushing him further into the burrow, still talking, but Harry could only shrug with a small smile before giving Hermione and Ron a similar questioning stare. They answered with more shrugs and knowing smiles.

_There was never any reason to worry, huh._

“Harry!”

Harry turned around. George Weasley was standing by the door, wearing a mischievous grin that Harry hoped wasn’t related to any birthday present. His wife Angelina was standing beside him, holding a baby. Harry smiled at them.

“Hello, you two.” he said, then corrected himself. “Or three, rather. How is little Fred?”

Angelina beamed at him.

“Oh, he’s a little troublemaker already, just like his dad.” she said, sounding incredibly proud.

“Speaking of trouble,” George cut in, “I thought I heard Malfoy earlier. Did you bring him?”

“You just missed him falling out of the fireplace. It was quite a sight.” Ron grinned. “Mum is making a fuss over him in the kitchen.”

“Ron, be nice!” Hermione said, dangerously. George and Angelina laughed a little.

“Well, call me next time Malfoy’s using a the floo. It would be fun to watch.” George said. “In the meantime; happy birthday, Harry!”

“Thanks.” Harry answered as George handed him a gift wrapped in rather hideous orange paper. The gift had a peculiar shape. George’s grin grew mischievous again as Harry accepted the gift. Harry was thankful he could postpone opening it when Arthur Weasley appeared.

“Harry, good to see you, boy. Happy birthday.” Arthur said as he shook hands with Harry.

“There you are, Arthur, finally.” Molly said from the kitchen door before Harry could answer. “Dinner is ready. You can talk more at the table.”

Harry walked over to Draco, whom Molly had managed to clean up pretty well. He was looking a bit lost, but was trying to hide it. To anyone but Harry he probably just looked bored. Harry really wished he would stop doing that.

“Draco, this is Arthur Weasley. And that’s George and Angelina and their son Fred. They all know you.”

“How do you do, sir.” Draco said politely as he shook hands with Arthur. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“You’re welcome.” Arthur answered, slightly cautious. Harry realized he would not be as easy to win over as Molly had been.

They all sat down around the table. Conversation was scarce at first, as everyone was enjoying Molly’s cooking. Towards the end of the dinner George put down his glass and asked, grinning:

“So, Harry, what’s going on between you two?”

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice, completely unprepared for the question. He had expected the subject to come up sooner or later, but not in the middle of a conversation about garden gnomes.

“Sorry, what?” he asked, mostly to get some time to compose himself. George grinned wickedly at him.

“You and Malfoy. What’s going on between you two?” George specified, obviously completely aware that he didn’t need to.

“There’s nothing going on.” Harry said, trying to make himself sound convincing while realising he had the undivided attention of everyone around the table. Even little Fred was looking at him. Harry looked helplessly over at Draco, who had made his face completely unreadable.

“Harry is just helping me with my memory loss.” Draco said. “We are friends, but that’s it. Nothing nearly as interesting as the papers want to make it.”

Harry shot him a thankful gaze, but Draco was still unreadable. George on the other hand seemed disappointed by the answer. In a way, Harry was, too.

“So you lived in America as a muggle, right?” Angelina asked, genuinely interested. “What was that like?”

“I don’t know. I had the memory loss, so I didn’t know any different at the time.” Draco said, a bit uncomfortable. Harry could understand that. The memories of San Francisco wasn’t exactly pleasant for Draco.

“And you still don’t remember everything, do you?” Arthur asked. “Like what happened the night you disappeared?”

“No.” Draco answered.

“And you don’t know why you gave Harry your memories?” Ginny asked.

“No.” Draco said again, sounding a little distressed. Harry started to look around for something to change the topic with. While he understood why they were asking questions, it still started to feel like an interrogation.

“What about the war?” Arthur started. “How much do you...”

“Really now, Arthur, stop pestering the boy.” Molly interrupted him, then turned to Draco. “Have another batch of potatoes, dear. You should really eat some more, you’re way too skinny.”

“No, thank you, I’m full.” Draco said, smiling at her. “Though if you don’t mind, I would like to have the recipe for this. It was really good.”

“Of course, dear.” Molly said, sounding a bit surprised. “ You also like to cook then? Men who can cook, I must say I approve of that.”

Harry smiled as Draco blushed a little.

“Draco is really good at it. He’s doing all the cooking at home.”, Harry said.

“Ah yes, I thought you looked a lot healthier than usual, Harry.” Molly said, turning back to Draco. “It’s good you’re taking care of him, dear. He eats those awful muggle fast foods all the time.”

“I’m not surprised.” Draco said, sounding amused as it was Harry’s turn to blush.

Soon Molly brought in a birthday cake of considerable size as George, Angelina and Ginny sang a silly birthday song to Harry. After dinner Harry opened his presents. Each year he insisted he didn’t need anything, and each year everyone ignored that. They knew how much he liked presents, having grown up without them. They made him happy, even when they, as George’s present did, turned his ears into donkey ears.

“Aww, he got the donkey! How cute!” Angelina said as everyone roared of laughter around him.

“Very funny, George.” Harry said, not without amusement, as he forced the magical hat down on George’s head as well. George immediately grew one over-sized mouse ear. The hat was then passed around to everyone. Even Draco accepted, probably thinking they would pin him down and force it on him if he refused. He was probably right, too.

Thus, they all looked quite strange as they went out into the garden to play a mock game of Quiddich. Angelina, now with a pair of dachshund ears, handed Fred over to a horse-eared Hermione before getting on the broom. Ginny was already in the air, her long cocker spaniel ears flying behind her. Draco, adorable with white cat ears, looked confused as George handed him a broom.

“I don’t remember how to fly.” he said. George scoffed.

“Sure you do. Just get on the broom and you’ll see.” he said.

Draco looked uncertainly at Harry who nodded.

“You probably shouldn't do any crazy stunts, though.” Harry said, trying to keep a straight face despite Draco’s ears.

“You can play keeper, that’s least flying.” George said. “We’ll play without the bludgers, so Angelina and I will be chasers, Harry and Ginny seekers, and Ron is the other keeper. Sound good?”

“I don’t remember the rules.” Draco said, still eyeing the broom uncertainly.

“Don’t worry, you never did.” George laughed as he flew off. Harry snickered, and Draco frowned at him.

“Never mind, just worry about catching the red ball, ok?” Harry said. “Come on.”

Draco still looked uncertain for a moment, then got on the broom and kicked off. He flew like he’d never done anything else. Harry recognized the look of wonder on his face. That’s how Harry himself must have looked when he first flew all those years ago.

“What are you waiting for?” Draco called. Harry shook his head and smiled as he joined the others in the air.

 

“There, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Harry said later as he stepped through the fireplace at his apartment. Draco had gone first and had, by the look of him, done a better job of avoiding the ashes this time.

“I guess not. Mrs Weasley is a very nice woman.” Draco said. “I wish could get rid of these ears, though.”

“Aw, but you look so cute in them.” Harry teased, and Draco glared at him. “Relax, they will be gone by tomorrow.”

“They better be.” Draco said. “Right, I’m off to bed. More awkward family meetings tomorrow.”

Harry cringed. Right. Dudley. He had almost forgotten.

“Good night.” he said absentmindedly. Draco frowned at him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. Harry looked up.

“What? No, nothing, just spaced out.” Harry said, aware that Draco wasn’t buying it. “I’m gonna go to sleep now. Good night.”

Draco looked at him a moment longer, like he wanted to say something, then he turned around and went up the stairs.

***

Dudley Dursley exited the underground, aware that he was dragging his feet behind him. He really wasn’t looking forward to this. He had really tried to rebuild his relationship with his cousin after Harry saved his life that one time, they both had, but every time they met their childhood years hung between them, making every attempt at a conversation terribly awkward.

Dudley saw the sign outside the pub immediately as he turned around the corner. The Hanged Man. Fitting, he supposed. Dudley did sort of feel like hanging wouldn’t be such a bad idea right now.

He looked trough the window as he walked towards the door. He could see Harry already inside, sitting by the bar disk, looking rather like Dudley felt. He was talking to a good-looking young man with blond hair. Probably the guy Dudley had talked to on the phone. The flatmate. Dudley couldn’t remember his name. 

Thinking that having a third person there could hardly make things more awkward, Dudley opened the door to the pub and entered. He stopped in the doorway as the blond man put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and said something Dudley didn’t hear. He raised his eyebrows. _Could it be..._

He walked over to them a bit cautiously.

“Hello, Harry. Happy birthday.” he said. Harry looked up at him and smiled, seemingly a bit startled.

“Hi, Dudley. Good to see you again.” he said. “This is Draco Malfoy, my flatmate. Draco, this is Dudley Dursley.”

“Pleased to meet you.” the young man said and shook Dudley’s hand.

“Likewise.” Dudley said. Then he looked at Harry and could feel the familiar Curtain of Awkwardness falling over them again. Greetings were fine, the greetings always went smoothly, but after that he had no idea what to say. What can you say to someone who you’ve spent your entire childhood casually ruining the life of?

“So, Dudley... Can I call you Dudley?... what do you do for a living?” Harry’s flatmate Draco asked cheerfully, as if the Curtain of Awkwardness wasn’t even there. “Oh, and feel free to order a beer or something, it’s Harry’s treat today.”

“It is what?” Harry asked, looking surprised. “When did I agree to that?”

“Right now.” Draco smirked. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” he said. “Go right ahead, Dudley. My treat”

Dudley smiled as he ordered a beer, a bit tempted to take one of the more expensive ones just to tease Harry but deciding against it. The Curtain of Awkwardness was slowly rising, and he didn’t want to push his luck.

“So, what do you do nowadays, Dudley?” Harry asked, repeating his flatmate’s earlier question. “Still working part-time in that bank?”

“No. Well yes, still the bank, but I’ve got a steady job now.” Dudley said, unable to not sound a bit proud. “What about you two?”

Harry shook his head.

“Nothing at the moment.”

“Right, we’re both the heirs of outrageous fortune and ridiculously famous and shall never need to work again.” Draco smirked. “Well, infamous in my case.”

Dudley laughed, though he suspected it was actually true.

“Shut up, Draco.” Harry said.

“See how he treats me?” Draco turned to Dudley. “Here I am, being a good flatmate, making his dinner and cleaning his house, and he tells me to shut up.”

“Shut up, Draco.” Harry said again. “And you’ve never cleaned the house.”

“Well, I don’t need to, do I? It cleans itself.”, Draco said. Dudley was laughing at the whole thing, the Curtain of Awkwardness forgotten.

“You do the cooking, then?” Dudley asked. “I’m a bit surprised.”

“You and the rest of the world, apparently.” Draco said cheerfully.

“It’s because I used to help with the cooking when I lived with the Dursleys when I was a kid.”, Harry explained. Draco scoffed.

“Really? Poor people, how they must have suffered.”

“It wasn’t all bad.” Dudley laughed. “I remember his bacon being quite good.”

“Oh? I guess I must try his bacon some time, then.” Draco said with a straight face as Harry choked on his beer. Draco gave him a look. “No manners, that one.”

“So how did the two of you meet? I don’t recall ever hearing your name before.” Dudley asked, genuinely curious as to where Harry had managed to this funny flatmate of his. _Flatmate? Yeah, sure._

“Long story.” Harry answered. “We went to Hogwarts together.”

“We hated each other’s guts.” Draco smirked.

“Yes, anyway, we met again recently and are living together now.” Harry continued. “It’s a bit complicated.”

“I’m sure.” Dudley said, smiling as he took another sip of beer.

The conversation went smoothly from topic to topic, no awkwardness detected, and Dudley wondered why they hadn’t thought about bringing along a third person before. Then again, he suspected a normal person would just have felt uncomfortable. This so-called flatmate of Harry’s, however, managed to find something new to talk about immediately when silence fell, keeping the conversation going without dominating it. Dudley found himself enjoying it, and Harry was laughing a lot as well. For the first time their little get-together had actually turned out fun, and for the first time they both ordered a second beer.

Dudley was almost sad when the clock turned six and he had to leave.

“You two should come to my place for dinner sometime.” he invited them as he got ready to leave. “I’m sure Sarah would love to meet you.”

“That would be nice.” Harry said. ”We’d be happy to come. ”

“You should have brought her along for a drink.” Draco said, and Dudley shook his head.

“No, she’s pregnant, so she can’t drink.”

“ _Pregnant_?” Harry repeated, sounding quite stunned.

“We’ve talked for hours and you didn’t even mention your girlfriend is pregnant?” Draco said, scolding. “Shame on you.”

“It’s been six months already, I forgot you didn’t know.” Dudley said. “I guess I didn’t mention it last time we met either, sorry.”

“You guys aren’t married, though, are you?” Draco asked, sounding curious. “‘Cause you called her your girlfriend earlier.”

“No, we’re not.” Dudley answered. ”We’re planning to after the baby is born, sometime next spring maybe. Sarah says she wants to fit in her mother’s wedding dress.”

“I like her already.” Draco laughed. Dudley nodded.

“I think you two would get along quite well, actually.” he said. “Well, I must be off. Thanks for the beer. See you.”

“Bye, Dudley.” Harry said, smiling.

“It was nice meeting you.” Draco said, getting up to shake Dudley’s hand again.

Dudley exited the pub with a big smile on his face. That meeting had been a huge success, at least compared to the other ones. He looked briefly back in through the window as he walked by, and saw Harry waving at him while Draco apparently took the opportunity to steal Harry’s beer. Dudley waved back and shook his head as he walked back towards the underground. They made an odd couple, those two.

***

“Ok, you two better sit down, you’re probably going to pass out again.” Hermione said as she opened the little vial of potion.

Harry made a face. It was time for the second batch, and Harry would never deny Draco his memories, but he did not look forward to tasting that again. Still, he obediently sat down on the couch beside Draco, opening his mouth as Hermione poured for drops of the potion into it.

Harry woke up about five minutes later. Draco, still unconscious, was leaning against his side with his head resting on Harry’s shoulder. Harry blushed a little at the sight.

“Welcome back, mate.” Ron said from across the room, looking a bit uncomfortable. He and Hermione were going out for dinner later, so he had come with her to deliver the second batch. Harry suspected he was also a bit curious about Draco’s memories.

“Thanks.” Harry said. “That potion really tastes terrible.”

Draco made a muffled sound against his shoulder and sat up slowly. He looked really tired again.

“Hey.” Harry said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Draco said simply. Harry suspected he was lying. Hermione sat down in the armchair in front of them.

“Can you tell us what you remember?” she asked. Draco looked thoughtful.

“Mostly Hogwarts.” he said. “Bits and pieces of lessons, spare time, homework. And Quiddich.”

“Still nothing about your parents?” Harry asked quietly.

“No.” Draco said, shaking his head and trying to hide his disappointment. Harry didn’t think anyone in the room was fooled, but nobody said anything.

“I remember my friends, though.” Draco said, suddenly smiling. “Goyle and...Crabbe. Pansy and Blaise.”

“That’s good, at least!” Hermione said, sounding a bit relieved. Ron had a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he just realised Draco had actually considered the other Slytherins friends, not just lackeys. Harry couldn’t blame him. He’d had the same revelation after reading Pansy’s letter.

“Pansy would probably like to know you remember her now.” Harry said. “You should write to her soon.”

“Yes, she said she wanted to see me, didn’t she?” Draco nodded. “I’ll go and do that immediately, I think. It’s been way too long since I last saw her.”

“We should probably get going as well.” Ron said, and Hermione nodded. “We’ll see you two later.”

“Right. Thanks again.”

As Ron and Hermione flooed away, Draco disappeared into the kitchen to write to Pansy. Harry looked after him as he went, letting out a sigh of relief. The second batch didn’t seem to have changed the way Draco acted. He was thankful the bad memories were still left out, since he didn’t know what would happened after Draco got them back. Harry suspected it would change everything.

“You don’t mind if I borrow your owl, right?” Draco called from the kitchen. “Thanks.”

Harry smiled to himself. Of course he didn’t mind, but most people would at least given him time to answer. Draco was not most people. Harry had a feeling he was spoiling him. Like he wasn’t spoiled enough already.

“Harry.” Draco said a few moments later. He was standing in the doorway to the kitchen looking thoughtful and a bit concerned.

“What is it?” Harry asked, slightly worried that something might be wrong after all.

“I was just thinking.” Draco said. “Blaise and Pansy have both sent letters, and Crabbe is...well, you know. But what happened to Goyle?”

Harry froze. He had forgotten Draco didn’t know. He turned away, looking down on the floor. He hadn’t thought very much about the incident with Goyle, he had been too busy following Draco’s traces to Dublin at the time, but...

_Oh, Merlin, this will kill Draco!_

Draco walked over to him, looking both worried and angry now.

“Potter, what happened to Goyle?” he said darkly. Harry cringed at the use of his last name.

“ _Tell me!_ ”


	11. St. Mungo's

“I don’t approve of this.” the healer said as she lead them down the corridors of St. Mungo’s. “He is not stable.”

“Draco is an old friend of Goyle’s, it can’t hurt.” Harry answered. “Thorsley at the administration's office thought it was an excellent idea.”

That may have been a slight exaggeration, but Harry had managed to convince him to let Draco see Goyle in the end. It seemed the old “Harry Potter”-card still held some power despite _the Daily Prophet_.

Harry glanced at Draco, who was walking beside him looking pale but determined. He had demanded to see Goyle immediately after Harry told him what happened, but it had taken two days to get the permission.

“This is it.” the healer said, stopping in front of a white door. “I must warn you, you probably won’t get any reaction from him. He has fits sometimes, but most of the time he just sits there.”

They went inside. Gregory Goyle was sitting in the left corner of the room, looking into the distance. He didn’t react to them entering. Harry swallowed. He had heard about what happened to Goyle. His father, a death-eater, had been imprisoned in Azkaban after the war, and he had lost his mother not long after that. Goyle was living alone when the mudbloods attacked, only a few weeks after Malfoy Manor and Draco’s disappearance. It had been a small attack with very little damage, but had resulted in Goyle losing his mind and being reduced to a more or less catatonic state.

“He just sits there?” Harry repeated, looking away from Draco’s pained expression. The healer nodded.

“Yes, he is in a world of his own.” the healer said. “No one can reach him. He just sits there on his own, thinking.”

Harry was startled to hear Draco laugh beside him. He looked over to see that he wasn’t actually amused, if anything, he seemed angry.

“ _Thinking!_ ” he exclaimed, walking over to the catatonic Goyle in the corner. “Gregory Goyle, spending years alone in a room, _thinking_! I didn’t even know you could think, you useless, good-for-nothing lump of fat.”

Draco stopped just in front of Goyle and bent down a bit, his fist on his sides, looking very stern.

“And what in Merlin’s name have they made you wear?” Draco continued. “Have I taught you nothing, you stupid gorilla?”

“Stop it this instant!” the healer demanded, sounding utterly shocked. “I can’t believe you, saying such things to a poor, defenceless...”

She trailed off as she realised what was happening in front of her. Harry watched in fascination as Goyle slowly lifted his head to look at Draco, looking very confused.

“Dra...co?” he said in a barely audible whisper, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Hello, you big oaf.” Draco said affectionately as he crouched down in front of Goyle. “I’m back. Always knew you’d go crazy without me.”

Goyle just continued to look at him, apparently not aware that Harry and the healer were there too. He also seemed unable to answer Draco, who just continued chatting as if that was perfectly normal. And, thinking back at how things had been in Hogwarts, Harry supposed it probably was. Neither Crabbe nor Goyle ever had the wits to carry a conversation very well, so Draco was obviously used to monologuing. Which, Harry suddenly realised, was probably the reason why he was so good at finding new topics all the time and avoiding awkward silences.

However, Goyle seemed more unresponsive than ever before. He seemed almost as far gone as when they entered the room, but instead of staring into nothing he was looking at Draco’s face.

“We should probably go.” Draco said after a while, turning to Harry and the healer. Harry thought he saw a flash of fear on Goyle’s face as Draco slowly stood up again, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same lost expression he’d had almost the whole time. Draco seemed to have expected it, though, because he turned back to Goyle.

“Don’t worry, you idiot. I’ll be back.” he said, reaching down to ruffle Goyle’s hair as if he were a dog. “Next time, at least try to laugh at my jokes, ok?”

“He can come back, can’t he?” Harry asked the healer as they exited the room. She smiled, locking the door behind them.

“Of course.” she said, sounding almost eager. “That’s more progress than he’d had in years. We were starting to lose hope of ever reaching him.”

She made a face that was a mix of disapproval and fascination as she continued:

“We never thought of trying verbal abuse, of course.”

“I don’t think it would have worked for anyone else.” Harry smiled and looked over at Draco, who was walking a step behind them, uncharacteristically quiet.

 _This must have been terrible for him_ , Harry thought, his heart full of sympathy. But Draco didn’t want sympathy, he knew that. Still, it was hard for Harry to act normal when Draco excused himself and hurriedly run to the bathroom as soon as he’d exited the fireplace at Harry’s apartment. He had no doubt Draco was crying, and he fully understood why. He just wished Draco would accept his shoulder to cry on, instead of trying to deal with it all himself.

Harry sighed as he sunk down in the sofa and turned on the television. He flipped aimlessly through the channels for a while, but nothing seemed to take his mind of the fact that Draco was crying all alone upstairs. He turned the tv off again and lay down the sofa. Harry closed his eyes, willing himself to stay where he was. As much as he wanted to, he knew from experience that walking in on Draco when he was crying was not a good idea.

He was still lying there when Draco came back downstairs, more falling than sitting down into the armchair. His eyes were still red and he looked exhausted.

“Thanks.” he said, and Harry looked at him in confusion, so he continued. “For taking me to see Goyle. I know it wasn’t easy to arrange.”

“It was harder for you, I think.” Harry said, unable to keep the sympathy out out his voice. “Are you ok?”

“Fine. Utterly perfect. Always am.” Draco answered, glaring irritatedly at Harry, who shook his head.

“Right.” he said, just to let Draco know he wasn’t buying it, but could take a hint. For a while there was silence, then Draco stirred.

“Can we just order pizzas or something today?” he asked. “I don’t feel like making dinner. Or going anywhere.”

“Sure.” Harry said. “I’ll go and call. Do you want to watch a movie or something while we eat?”

“Why not.” Draco said after a moment of consideration, probably reaching the conclusion that it would take his mind off things, which was what Harry had intended. “But nothing deep, some mindless action movie would suffice.”

“Anything you want.” Harry said, then went into the kitchen to order the pizzas. He’d done that every now and then the past few years, before Draco became his personal chef, and they remembered him at the pizza place when he called.

“Pepperoni as usual, Mr. Potter?” the pizza guy asked.

“Yes... and a Hawaiian, please.” Harry said, apparently surprising the pizza guy, who was quiet for a moment.

“Good for you, mate.” the pizza guy said, sounding a bit amused. “We’ve got your address, they’ll be delivered within the hour.”

Harry thanked him and hung up, wondering why the hell everyone always assumed he and Draco were together. Even without seeing them, apparently. Sure, he had never ordered two pizzas before, but there was no reason he couldn’t be sharing with a friend rather than a lover. _Which I am_ , Harry thought as he walked back into the living room, watching Draco go through the rather large pile of DVD:s with a small frown on his face. No matter how much Harry would have wanted something more, they were still just friends. He should be happy to have that much, at least.

“How about _Independence Day_?” Draco asked, holding up the cover. Harry smiled.

“Sure it’s mindless enough?” He asked jokingly.

“It’s got aliens and Will Smith.” Draco said, grinning. “It doesn’t get more mindless than that.”

They had barely started watching when the pizzas arrived and ate in silence as the aliens started to take over the world. The movie was turning out better than Harry had expected, but he was a bit annoyed by the fact that Draco had remained in the armchair rather than joining Harry on the sofa. About halfway through the movie Harry realised that Draco wasn’t watching anymore. His head was hanging and his eyes were closed. Harry wondered how long he’d already been asleep. It must have been sometime after they finished the pizzas.

Harry turned off the TV and DVD-player, figuring that they could finish watching some other time. For a while he just sat quietly and watched Draco sleep. Harry felt like it was probably a bit of a weird thing to do, watching someone else sleep, but Draco was rarely still for a very long time, so Harry took the opportunity to truly study his strange companion.

Draco’s impossibly blond hair was getting quite long, Harry noticed. He wondered if Draco was planning on growing it out. Harry hoped he was. It would probably look nice. Those eyelashes of his were quite long already. It was hard to see, as they were as blond as his hair, but Harry thought they were at least twice the length of his own. Not that he had ever studied his own eyelashes.

Harry let his eyes wander over the sleeping man in the armchair, thinking that Mrs Weasley had been right, Draco was too skinny. Harry wondered if he had lost weight since coming back to Britain, as Harry didn’t remember him being quite this thin when they met in San Francisco. He quietly resolved to try and make Draco eat more. Not that he looked bad, quite the opposite in fact, but a little more meat wouldn’t hurt.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear it from the unwelcome thoughts that automatically appeared whenever he was thinking about Draco. Which was, let’s face it, most of the time. Harry couldn’t remember ever being this obsessed with anyone else, not even Ginny, and certainly not Cho. But of course he hadn’t been having them around all the time like Draco was before they had gotten together.

Harry sighed and walked over to Draco, placing a hand on his shoulder and carefully shaking him a bit to wake him up. Draco made a moaning sound that Harry really wouldn’t mind hearing more of, then slowly opened his eyes. He looked at Harry very sleepily.

“Hey.” Harry said softly. “You’re gonna have one heck of a neck-ache tomorrow if you sleep here.”

“Sorry, I must have been more tired than I thought.” Draco murmured. “How did the movie end?”

“Don’t know yet, but I suspect the world was saved.” Harry smiled. “It usually is.”

“Yeah, you would know know.” Draco said as he slowly rose from the armchair and stretched his back. “Thanks for waking me up. I think I’m going back to sleep now.”

Harry chuckled a little and said goodnight. He watched Draco walk up the stairs, dragging his feet sleepily behind him. Harry wondered if he would ever be allowed to follow.

 

Draco was already at the table eating breakfast when Harry woke up the following morning. Harry looked a bit suspiciously at the pile of pancakes that Draco was munching at, and wondered how it could be possible for him to be as skinny as Harry had realised he was yesterday. Where the hell did all that food go?

“Good morning.” Draco said, holding up a letter. “Pansy sent me an answer. She says she could visit the day after tomorrow. We don’t have any other plans, do we?”

“Not to my knowledge, no. You can tell her she’s welcome.” Harry answered, then smiled. “You already did, didn’t you? I don’t see my owl anywhere.”

“Of course I did.” Draco answered shamelessly. “Now are you going to eat your pancakes or...”

He was interrupted by a sound coming from the fireplace. Harry frowned and walked back into the living room. Auror Miller’s head was in the floo. Harry really wasn’t glad to see him.

“Good morning, Mr. Potter.” Miller said, smiling like a snake. “I have some official Ministry business, I’m afraid. May I come in?”

“If you must.” Harry said, not bothering to smile back. The aurors making house-calls was never a good thing. Miller stepped through the fireplace, and Harry was childishly pleased to see that he didn’t manage to avoid the ashes very well.

“What’s this about?” Harry asked, having a feeling he knew who it was about. He unconsciously took a step closer to Draco, who was standing just behind him..

“It’s about Mr. Malfoy, who I see you’re still... harbouring.” Miller said, taking a very official tone. “You are of course aware that Mr. Malfoy has entered Great Britain illegally, thus making him a fugitive.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked. He had expected this to be about Draco, sure, but this was beyond ridiculous.

“Mr. Malfoy’s immigration was not registered with the Ministry upon arrival.” Miller said. Harry almost laughed at that.

“Check your records.” he said. “Draco is a British citizen, born and raised here. Sure, he was away a couple of years, but that doesn’t make him an immigrant.”

“Actually, it does.” Miller said. “Mr. Malfoy was declared dead two years after his disappearance, thus removing his previous citizenship. As we realize you probably wasn’t aware of this, Mr. Potter, there will be no charge against you for harbouring a illegal immigrant, providing you immediately release Mr. Malfoy into Ministry custody.”

“Bollocks.” Harry said. Draco looked at him, apparently having been both frightened and confused by the whole thing. Miller frowned.

“I don’t make the laws. Mr. Potter.” he said. “For your own sake I strongly suggest you do as the Ministry wants.”

“And I strongly suggest you go through your own files before making ridiculous demands.” Harry said, quite angrily. “ _The Daily Prophet_ may have declared Draco dead, but in the Ministry’s records he was only ever presumed so, thus regaining all his rights if he ever returned.”

Miller looked disbelievingly at him.

“There is a signed document from the Ministry, declaring Mr. Malfoy dead.” he said. “I have it right...”

“You will find that document was made invalid by a protest, signed by minister Kingsley himself, just a few hours after it had been signed.” Harry said, smiling at the stunned expression on Miller’s face. “Believe me, I was the one who talked Kingsley into it, you can ask him if you want. Also, auror Ronald Weasley updated Draco’s file as soon as he returned to Britain. I think you will find everything is in order.”

There was silence in the room for a moment, then Miller cleared his throat.

“Is that so? There has clearly been some sort of misunderstanding then.” He said, apparently trying to compose himself. “I will have this checked, but I’m sure everything is in order. I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Potter. Good day.”

Miller hurriedly disappeared through the floo. Harry let out a sigh of relief and sunk down on the sofa as soon as Miller was gone. Harry suddenly realised Draco was looking at him, looking half confused and half amused.

“What?” Harry asked. Draco smiled.

“You made sure I wasn’t declared dead.” he said, and Harry nodded. Draco continued: “And you kept my Gringott’s key for my use only. And you came looking for me all the way to America. And you took me home when I lost my memories, saving my life a few times on the way. Even though we used to hate each other.”

“Yes?” Harry asked, wondering where this was going. He really hoped Draco wouldn’t ask the obvious question.

“You’re stalking me, aren’t you, you creep?” Draco asked, smirking. Harry blinked, then laughed.

“Suppose I am.” he said, leaning back in the sofa, relaxing. Draco sank down beside him, the smirk turning into a smile.

“Good thing, too.” Draco said. “The Ministry seemed quite set on getting rid of me.”

“You’re right.” Harry realised, sitting up straight. “Normally they never bother with that kind of bureaucratic nonsense. They’re only that cut-throat if someone’s considered a threat. They did it to me once, when they didn’t want to acknowledge Voldemort was back.”

“But why me?” Draco asked, confused. “As much as I loath to admit it, I’m hardly a threat to anyone in this state.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Harry said, grinning. “I think that Death Eater you knocked out would beg to differ.”

“Oh, yes, the Ministry is afraid I’m gonna sneak up behind every one of them and hit them with branches.” Draco laughed. “Or maybe they just think I’m a bad influence on you and should be locked away.”

“You’re not a bad influence on me.” Harry frowned, suspecting he had heard something other than humour in Draco’s voice.

“Shh, at least make me think I am. You’ve gotta leave a man some pride.” Draco smirked, and Harry wondered if the earlier tone had just been his imagination.

“Maybe they just want your money.” Harry guessed. “They seemed quite keen to use it while you were gone, after all. The Ministry isn’t exactly rich.”

“Perhaps.” Draco said and got back on his feet. “I’m gonna finish breakfast, even if it’s probably cold now.”

Halfway to the kitchen he stopped and turned back to Harry, a smirk on his face.

“By the way, Harry, did you know you’re still wearing your pyjamas?”

 

Draco disappeared up the stair, having finished his breakfast long before Harry did. Harry was left alone with his pancakes, reheated by magic. Somehow he felt a little lonely eating breakfast alone. He quietly cursed the Ministry for wasting his time this morning, with such useless bureaucracy no less. He was happy he had thought of fixing the paperwork, though.

Which made him wonder _why_ he had done that. He had never thought much about it, but Draco had put it out in the open earlier, all the efforts Harry had made in case Draco ever came back. It hadn’t really been that much of an effort, of course. At the time he’d just figured he owed it to Narcissa Malfoy for saving his life. But considering how fast he had found himself attracted to Draco, he now wondered if there hadn’t been more to it.

Harry shook his head and put the empty plates away. It didn’t really matter anymore, did it?

Seeing that the weather was really nice, Harry decided to ask Draco if he wanted to go out for a walk or something. Maybe for an ice cream again, or maybe even a pint. Harry made his way up the stairs, stopping dead as he reached the top, taking in the scene in front of him.

Draco was sitting on the bed, his back turned towards Harry. He had his wand in his hand, using magic to float a hairbrush in front of him. It was the first time Harry had seen him do magic since they met again. Harry smiled to himself, aware of how much being able to do that simple spell must mean to Draco.

Draco suddenly seemed to sense his presence, and spun around, surprised. The hairbrush fell to the floor with a thud, and Draco made a face at it.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to distract you.” Harry said, walking over to him. Draco scowled.

“Yes, you’re very distracting.” he said, sounding sarcastic but not unfriendly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Harry smiled, picking up the hairbrush. “So, you’re able to do magic now? That’s good.”

“Only simple spells.” Draco answered, a bit bitter. “Not that I really remember many complicated ones.”

“Well, _Wingardium Leviosa_ can be useful.” Harry said, consoling, not actually remembering many instances where this had been true. Draco seemed to see right through him.

“Tremendously useful, I’m sure.” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Harry flinched a little, realising he had broken the rules by being sympathetic. He wasn’t sure what to do about it, though, seeing as apologising would only repeat the mistake. He opted to be quiet instead, and the room was filled with an awkward silence.

“Well, I have a couple of other spells, too. And I expect I’ll be able to cast more advanced ones after the next batch.” Draco said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”  
Harry’s breathing stopped at the last sentence as he felt his stomach turn to ice.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked quietly. He should have expected it, he supposed, but somehow he had managed to forget that Draco was only living with him temporarily.

“These living conditions are hardly ideal for either of us, are they?” Draco said, looking up at Harry, his face unreadable. “It’s better if I leave, as soon as I can defend myself.”

“That’s all you think about, isn’t it? Yourself!” Harry spat, unreasonably angry and aware of it, but not caring. Draco flinched, not having expected the outburst.

“That’s not what I meant.” he said defensively. Harry scoffed.

“That’s exactly what you meant.” Harry said angrily. “You really haven’t changed after all, have you? You’re still the same selfish prat I knew at Hogwarts!”

Draco stared at him for a moment, then exploded.

“HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW!” he bellowed. “THAT’S NOT FAIR, YOU ARSE!”

“That excuse is getting old, Malfoy.” Harry snorted, still too angry to think properly. “I know you already got many of your memories back.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, _Potter_!” Draco said, furious. “As usual, the great Harry Potter think he knows everything.”

Somehow the use of his last name shook Harry back to reality. He stared down at Draco, stunned, wondering how he could have let things go this far. How he could have started it.

“I don’t have any _important_ memories!” Draco continued, still angry. “I’m mostly not an active part of the memories I do have! I remember you, I remember Hogwarts, I remember my friends and I even remember MRS. FUCKING NORRIS, but I don’t remember my parents!. And I hardly remember myself!”

Harry was quiet. He supposed, in a way, that he had always seen Draco’s memory loss as something positive, as a chance for the other to start again, and change. For Draco it must have been the opposite, he was trying to find a way back to who he had been. Harry may not want that to happen, but it wasn’t fair to Draco. Harry swallowed. He had accused Draco of being selfish, but in truth Harry was the selfish one.

“I’m sorry.” he said quietly. Draco stared disbelievingly at him. “I’m sorry” Harry repeated. “I just didn’t want you to leave.”

Draco looked like he was as surprised by the confession as Harry himself was. He hadn’t meant to say it, but it had just slipped out. Maybe that was for the best. It did explain the whole argument, after all. Even if it did made Harry seem like a spoiled brat.

“That was a funny way to show it.” Draco said, slightly angry still. Then he sighed and closed his eye as he buried his face in his hands. “This is so fucked up.” he said tiredly.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Harry said, equally tired as he sat down beside Draco on the bed, wanting to put an arm around him but deciding against it. Better not start another argument. Better not let Draco know exactly how fucked up the situation really was. He had enough to deal with already.

They sat in silence for a while. Draco’s hands left his face and found their way to his wand, which he absentmindedly started playing with. Harry watched him quietly, wondering if it was safe to say anything, and what he should say. In the end it was Draco who broke the silence.

“You don’t mind me staying here, then.” he said, not actually looking at Harry but staring into the distance.

“It’s nice having company.” Harry answered, wondering if Draco really had doubted that. He couldn’t have, could he? Harry thought it had been pretty obvious that he enjoyed Draco living with him.

“I can’t stay forever.” Draco said, still looking blankly in front of him. Harry knew this, of course, but hearing it still hurt a bit.

“But you can stay as long as you want.” he said softly. “Even after you get all your magic back, if you want to.”

Draco didn’t answer, just quietly shook his head and got up from the bed. Harry watched as he walked over to the window, looking outside.

“It’s a nice day.” he said, and Harry suddenly remembered why he had come up the stairs in the first place.

“It is, isn’t it? Fancy a walk?” Harry asked. “We could go get ice cream.”

Draco turned around to look at him, and for a moment Harry was certain he would decline, but then he smiled that beautiful, complex smile of his.

“Sure.” he said.


End file.
